Deathless Amity
by mcrshank
Summary: Set a few months after the end of season 3A, Deathless Amity explores the relationship between Stiles Stilinski & Lydia Martin; starting after a quite accidental date, and becoming slightly complicated when a brand new supernatural creature, that no one thought would ever cross their paths, changes Stiles' life as he knows it forever. •Based on an RP where the author plays Stiles•
1. Chapter 1: Aftermath

Things seemed a little different since Lydia Martin last saw Stiles to spend time together. It had been a celebration, one for which she could only feel proud of due to the fact that _she _had been the reason he'd gotten an A in that particular assignment, after having texted her once out of nowhere and their arrangement to study together so he could get a little bit more of a better chance at good grades, and because of that A, he'd ran all the way to her classroom during his last period to wait for Lydia so he could let her in on the news.

And because of those news Lydia had suggested a celebration; a dinner, _Like a date?_ He'd asked, and just as quickly he'd corrected himself with a lift of a hand to scratch at the back of his neck before saying _I mean a _friend_ date, of course. I—heh. _And Lydia had solely said yes; it'd been a situation that regardless of her many dire attempts at making it known that the occasion was truly only camaraderie and celebration, the word 'friend' had started to blur between them as the dinner continued. Not only had Stiles taken her to the diner he later on confessed to have been his mother's favourite, but they'd shared looks with one another that read many more words in the air between them than just friends; they'd shared a milkshake, of which at one point they'd even drunk from at the very same time, she wiped away a little bit of mustard that had accidentally remained at the bottom of his chin from the extra large burger he'd been consuming, which only meant him leaning closer and making Lydia inexplicably nervous the moment she found herself paying attention to his lips. In other words, the so called _friend _date had only proved to be more than just that.

When they shared the milkshake, at first she had been hesitant; however it seemed the only way in which both friends would finish it, so Lydia Martin said _fuck it_ in her mind and had gone for it. Sharing with a friend was really no big deal, even if it _had _gotten her a little bit closer to him; close enough that she could suddenly notice all those small details of his features she had never actually paid attention to. That was most likely also the reason for which she felt a little bit more nervous walking with Stiles toward her front door; another thing that he insisted on regardless of her saying that he didn't have to. Once they got to her door, she gave him a smile, then quickly went inside so that there would be no insinuation of a goodnight kiss.

And still; three days later she found herself thinking about it; _Maybe I should have at least pecked his cheek? _She wondered, though she really didn't know. But what she _did _know was that perhaps that moment wasn't a good one to be thinking about such questions, because both friends were both currently in his bedroom, studying, while in _very _close proximity of each other.

She could distract herself with school, school was what she was good at; but the boy beside her seemed to be unable to do such a thing. In fact, he was thinking of the exact same thing: it seemed to be bothering him that the 'friend' date he'd had with the strawberry blonde beside him had bled romance from more than one corner; and that mind of his refused to allow him to ignore it. The way he'd found Lydia looking at him in more than one occasion during the dinner was enough to keep him up at night; the sort of look that could just as easily be confused for the kind that one gets when they think of something and a thing just _happens _to be in the way of their eye range; the look they'd _both _shared for one ragingly confusing moment, the way they shared food, and more importantly, the manner in which he'd actually paid the bill at a point in which Lydia had not been paying much attention, and once she realised it she hadn't made a big fuss about it as Stiles thought she would have. All of those things bothered him; not because they were bad, but on the contrary.

_Is Lydia aware of what she was doing? _He wondered as he attempted to concentrate on the notebook before him. _I'm probably reading too much into it. _Studying, school; how was he supposed to concentrate on such things when the very reason of his curious and impatient imaginings was sitting so close beside him? He couldn't care less about maths at that moment. All he wanted was to open his mouth and ask his friend if something had been different the night of the celebration, of if he was being overly imaginative. But then the very thought of the friendship they both had seemed to have built together stopped him from doing so; because what if Lydia started thinking he'd returned to being the love-sick child from a few years back? What if it made the strawberry blonde want to not be around him as much anymore? What _if? _

So he stared, eyes scanning the pages of the materials before him in nearly automatic motions, and completely aware of Lydia's presence by his side; her breaths, her movements, her casual looks in his direction. Any and all the things that made it harder for him not to speak.

It was something that became painfully obvious for the Banshee as he looked in his direction once again. There was something about Stiles, something that she saw over all the things she hadn't seen before, the more time she spent with him; he was kind, sweet, brave, loyal, and so many other things that her old boyfriend, Jackson, wasn't. And maybe that was her type, maybe she liked bad boys who treated their girlfriends like crap. He had his moments, of course, but all Jackson cared about was winning; maybe for her, maybe for some other reason, she had never been able to figure it out, but it was true. "Stiles." She suddenly said, nudging the boy by her side gingerly with her elbow; she needed to distract herself from all of her thoughts, and _now. _She cleared her throat and glanced at Stiles with a raised brow and pursed lips. "We have to focus on this." She stated. "Unless you want to take a break? You can eat something."

He'd been attempting to figure out his own thoughts when she'd nudged him; it had taken him so much by surprise that he'd done a double take with his eyes prior to allowing his head to look in her direction. "What?" He blinked, mind running in one and a million different directions as he wondered if Lydia could somehow tell what he was thinking about. His eyes blinked again a couple of times and his head shook. "No, uh, I... uh. No. I'm not hungry." _DID I JUST...? _Looking away from his friend, Stiles' eyes narrowed at the notebook in front of him as if it had been the one to speak such words instead of him. Well... he was never one to be able to come up with good excuses on the spot.

"Huh." Lydia expressed, wondering if she should ask what was wrong or continue to feign innocence until she had no choice but to talk about what was bothering him; which by the way she seemed to know him nowadays, was probably the same thing that was bothering _her_. The truth was that she didn't do the innocent thing very well, but she truly didn't plan on telling Stiles any of her thoughts. _UGH. _She could solve mathematical equations, yet _that _was what was confusing Lydia Martin?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, more at the whole situation than Stiles' lack of focus, her pen tapped against her bottom lip as she continued to stare at Stiles with her own narrowed gaze. "Are you sick, Stiles? Is there something wrong? Are you possessed?" She smiled the moment his eyes rolled in feigned annoyance. Clearly innocence was the road she'd chosen. "You never say no to food."

"Yes, I'm aware of that." He heard himself stating, the pen in his hand falling from his grip and allowing a _clank_ to toot around the walls of the room. "Maybe it's time I started to." He didn't even pay attention to what he was saying, for he was more focused on the words she'd spoken due to the fact that he was _very _used to supernatural... _everything_ in Beacon Hills. And because of that he found himself frowning and lifting narrowed hues in her direction. "Wait, possessed?" He asked, shaking his head once, watching as Lydia smiled and looked away at the slow pace in which he'd caught on. "What? No, are you kidding?" She laughed. "Do demons even exist?" His expression softened, eyes flicked to the fallen pen whilst silently thanking the subject shift and the sudden lack of tension.

Gifting Stiles with a small upturning of her lips while daring to look in his direction again, Lydia shrugged a shoulder. "Who knows, maybe they hunt in packs with the sparkly vampires." She joked. "It _is _Beacon Hills, after all."

Of course there was a smile across Stiles' lips, even as his eyes lowered toward the pen on his notebook. He picked it up, bringing it to his lips while contemplating the concern that mirrored in her features; something he hadn't missed regardless of the carefree demeanour her words took. It only made his mind reel back into the reverie of wonder about the feelings that continued to confuse him. Yet... did he actually want to talk about it? Would it be good or bad? Would it _end _good or badly? "No." He said out loud, answering himself and Lydia at the same time, deciding to focus on her distraction worthy words; he clicked the pen on his hand as if that alone were to stop the thoughts from continuing to prove inside his mind. "Vampires don't exist." He stated. "Werewolves, I'll say, but vampires? _No way._"

"Shhhh." Another smile lit up Lydia's features as she shifted on her place beside Stiles, making sure to allow enough space between them that their limbs weren't in danger of touching, or even _brushing._ To her, the air in the room _did _feel weird, and how to go about it was not something that she wished to do at that very moment. If she'd picked something up from Stiles was his ability to avoid confrontation. "Don't say that," she continued with the game. "They might hear you and try to overtake our town _just _because you said that."

He wasn't able to help it; not that time. An actual short wave of laughter left his lips as soon as Lydia's last words were uttered, because all he could suddenly imagine were Dracula look-a-likes walking around town begging to be acknowledged; fake fangs, Russian accent and everything. "Flowing capes." He snorted; not truly realising he'd even spoken the last words out loud until Lydia actually reacted to them with a laugh of her own. "I guess I wouldn't put it past it Beacon Hills to prove me wrong, but I'm willing to bet on it, Lyds." He quickly stated, straight face and all. "There are no such things as vampires." Was he using the silly subject Lydia had brought up as a distraction from what he _actually _was dying to speak about but couldn't? You bet he was.

"Do you think you could give up garlic?" She wondered out loud, tapping her own pen against her lips whilst forcing that little smile to remain across them, quickly glancing in Stiles' direction with a mischievous quirk to her mouth. "How much do you want to bet, Stilinski?" Even if she was making a bet with him she wasn't sure what she'd want to ask for, or _if _she'd want to ask for anything; but in reality she was more worried about what _he _would want if he was the one to win. But then she realised that her worries were bleeding into the conversation. _This is just a game. _She thought. _Just a thing to pass the time, it's not serious._

"Are you actually...?" Stiles interrupted her thoughts, his eyes narrowed only playfully as he pointed in her direction with the tip of his pen; his brows rose and an amused look adorned his features. "I can't believe you are actually considering betting on the subject of if vampires are real or not." His head shook once again. "Lydia Martin, you've officially made me question my sanity." He admitted in her direction. _Should I do it? _He kept asking himself. _Should I do it or not? _He smiled. Sure, it was a silly subject to even bet on, but it had made both friends break the thin layer of probably imagined tension that rested above their heads. "But also," He started again, looking in her direction once again and lifting a finger as if to point at the ceiling. "_For the record,_ giving up garlic would mean giving up pizza, and I don't think any human being could do that."

There he was; the Stiles that didn't want to give up food no matter how much he had eaten. He'd not only consumed a big plate of curly fries, but also a huge hamburger, part of a milkshake then some of a sundae dessert they both shared during their date; so him talking about not eating was still strange. "Oh, honey." She shook her head. "You can't be sane and live in this town. 'Gotta do crazy things to show that we won't let it get to us.'" She paused, rolling her eyes and making a little circle on the air with her pen. "Or something like that."

Stiles chuckled, nodding once. "Alright, fine." He allowed, his head shaking only once. "What about you? Could _you _give up garlic?" His eyes looked in her direction again, curious, wondering.

Shrugging a shoulder, Lydia allowed her head to shake for a couple of moments. "Maybe." She admitted. "Not pizza, though. I do like that." Her eyes fell to the book in her hands; satisfied with the fact that Stiles seemed to be smiling. "Or a mirror; that I couldn't give up." She suddenly stated. "Hard to look this perfect with no reflection." Another grin formed on her lips as her shoulder gently bumped into Stiles' in a playful manner; for it was only half true, Lydia didn't think she could really give up mirrors, but she also didn't have that need to look _perfect_ anymore, which she liked.

"I don't think you need mirrors to look perfect, Lydia." Stiles suddenly stated, the grin didn't leave his lips, even as he allowed himself to stand up from where they both were; his excuse was that he was moving in order to find the phone, but the reality was that he had become nervous halfway through his involuntary expression of what he believed to be the truth. Without looking at her, though, he continued on the subject both friends had chosen upon. "Let's do it." He simply stated, quickly without allowing any pauses in his speech. "Let's bet on it, why not?" He dared look in her direction again, with that big somewhat forced smile plastered across his lips and his cellphone on his other hand. "Do you want pizza?"

"Sure, why not?" It hadn't been the compliment that got Lydia watching Stiles very closely, she was used to those; he had complimented her many times when they were in each other's company; it was the manner in which he suddenly started acting. He seemed like his regular spastic, nervous self; however, she knew far better than to pin it on that. It had all started happening from the moment after they'd gone on their 'friend' date; he acted a little more like the way he was acting at that very moment, and she'd pretend nothing was wrong, but it seemed to be eating him up. "What do you win if I'm wrong?" She wondered, following their latest costume and tilting her head to the side, her gaze thoroughly inspecting the way Stiles moved, with a raise of her eyebrow.

_What could I win? _He wondered, _What could I—no. No, no. _Were he to speak his idea he was sure to bring up the subject that _had _been nagging at his brain not even moments prior; it still nagged, but he couldn't pretend it wasn't anymore. So, just for that moment, he decided to ignore Lydia's second question; instead he focused on the food, using the excuse that he'd already started dialling to put their other subject on pause. "What toppings do you want?"

The fact that her question hadn't been answered continued to bother her the moment he inquired her about the choice of food. "I'm fine with whatever you want." She admitted, whilst realising that her friend probably wanted something that he thought she could give to him, but wasn't able to at that very moment. Except... _Maybe I am? _She knew for a fact that Jackson wasn't coming back to Beacon Hills, and even if he did, she knew that she was better off without him, and him without her. They were simply not compatible, even if she did used to think that they were; she used to think she was in love with Jackson, yet, according to Allison, love wasn't what they'd felt. Which was why she was a bit confused about Stiles; it wasn't the fact that he continued to compliment her, otherwise she would have given in to him all those months ago. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that picky."

Stiles himself couldn't understand the way in which his mind worked; one second it had been all about getting the little romantic details of his 'friend' date with Lydia out of his head, and the next it was all about coming up with the perfect combination to put on a pizza. He smiled, though, while he asked for a large pizza with red onion, pineapple, ham and extra cheese with a side order of onion rings; and while the guy at the other side of the line spoke to him and repeated his order back to Stiles for confirmation, he looked in Lydia's direction, as per usual, looking at the little details that made him unable to not feel his heart beating a little faster than usual. He nodded, thanked the guy on the phone and smiled once again; eyes on Lydia while he hung up the phone and set it down in its place again. "It'll be here in less than forty minutes or it's free."

"No curly fries?" Picking up her line of sight to look at Stiles, Lydia's lips quirked into an amused smile, while teasing tones laced her words; even if the place didn't sell them, she still had to bug him about it. It would probably be the one thing she would always do to him whenever food was involved. "Hope you don't plan on kissing anyone, Stiles." The words left her mouth before she even took a second to think about what she'd said, and when it registered in her mind it was too late.

"No. Nope." It didn't take long at all for a young nervous laugh to escape his lips after her quick inquiry, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck as if he were fighting off an invisible mosquito that bugged him. "No kissing plans over here." With a short chuckle, Stiles finally lowered his hand and forced it to find the pen he'd been working with and busying his widening eyes with searching for his notebook; while all he could think was, _Good going, you idiot. _

For a moment Lydia's eyes locked on Stiles'; usually she'd have had a sarcastic retort on the tip of her tongue, but this time all she could do was just continue to stare at him with what felt like relief and disappointment. It was an odd combination to feel, however, she wasn't sure how to arrange her emotions. So was she glad that Stiles was saying he had no plans to kiss anyone or was she disappointed about the fact? Either way, all she wanted was to ignore the "problem" until it went away; so what could she distract Stiles with? She knew food was a good option, but that had already been touched; so... what now? _Um... _"How's lacrosse going?" _Ugh. _

For a moment all Stiles could do was blink; his eyes stuck on the wooden material of the desk where he'd left his phone as his mind replayed the completely innocent question Lydia had suddenly asked him. Lacrosse._ God. Lacrosse. _Things had gotten to that point in which there was this huge wolfed-out-Peter sized elephant in the room, and all Lydia wanted to talk about was Lacrosse. "Great." He replied with a slightly frustrated chuckle escaping his lips. Stiles' hand lifted again, this time to scratch the end of his brow prior to looking in her direction.

Once upon a time Stiles would have already blurted out all of his thoughts to his strawberry blonde friend; but, see, that was the problem. Lydia was his _friend _now, and the game of small talk seemed to be the only thing to keep them both, or really, Stiles, from interrogating her on the subject of kissing; something that he had been almost a hundred percent sure would have happened in that unexpected moment where their gazes got lost in each other during their so called 'friend' date. The subject of that date alone was enough to fry his brain over, but with that frustrating and annoying fear beating at his insides, all Stiles could do was play Lydia's game. "Yeah, great." He repeated. "I think Coach might put me in the front line again this season." Sigh. What else could he possibly do?

It suddenly felt like she was walking on eggshells, trying not to cause any more trouble, but the thing was that talking about those little subjects was making everything worse; Lacrosse was not a good topic to speak about, for, as soon as she had, she started imagining Stiles playing, and how excited he had gotten when he scored that goal last season. It'd been cute as well as nice to see. It made her proud to know that in all the voices screaming at him, hers had been the one he'd heard. "Good, I'm glad." Maybe Lydia and Stiles did have some sort of connection, she knew they had to; there were moments when she _swore _she could hear things happening, or just feel Stiles in many different ways. She couldn't explain it, but it was true; even when she didn't pay much attention to Stiles, they found themselves in each other's company, and even more so now that they _were_ friends. "You'll do great, Stiles." She gifted him with a beatific smile while her hands tightened their grip on each other, and her gaze remained on his as she absentmindedly continued to study his features, taking in everything that made him _him_, and everything that brought her so much comfort even if she didn't fully realise it. "Practice makes perfect, and you pick up things very quickly." Now if only she could find it in her to analyze her own thoughts.

"Thanks" Stiles said with a tone as much genuine as it was frustrated. Eyes falling to his hands as they played with the pen instead of looking in Lydia's direction.

"You're welcome" There was no use, no matter what she said or did, the situation wouldn't diffuse itself, and as much as she wanted to keep denying everything that was going on, and how she _felt, _she couldn't; however, that didn't mean she was going to go ahead, saying things to Stiles. She was still taking time from what had happened with Jackson, that remained an open wound in her heart, so could she really just _go with it? _Could she really blur those lines? She was still confused and unsure on how to go about anything right at that very moment, so she just stayed still, not moving any of her limbs except for her eyes, which lowered to stare back at her hands as a small and quiet sigh escaped her lips.

Stiles could feel it; the frustration of the whole situation building up inside him. The continuous wondering of the many things in his relationship with Lydia that simply didn't come off to him as a normal friendship. But hell, what did he know? It wasn't as if he had many female friends. Sure, there was Allison, but he wasn't attracted to her, and then there was Heather, but due to her attending a different school the two never really hung out as often as they'd like; plus, prior to her death, they had both been friends since... well, _ever. _And even then she'd wanted to... "Lydia..." Stiles heard himself saying frustratedly after what he thought to be a long silence; clearly all his thoughts and his memories and his unstoppable questions were making everything difficult; and now those thoughts of his deceased friend were making everything a million times worse. And he'd spoken Lydia's name, but then what? What could he possibly say to her to get the answers he wanted without having _everything_ go wrong?

Lydia wanted it to be how it had been before; being able to just tell Stiles anything, without worry that it would cause any tension, or awkward silence. She wanted to reach out to take Stiles' hands and reassure him that everything would be okay, but how could she when she wasn't even sure if it would be? "Say it, Stiles."

He didn't know what it was; maybe the way Lydia sat still, maybe the way her eyes moved from one side to the other until they stopped on her hands, maybe it was the way her hair fell at her side that made her seem so vulnerable and kind, maybe it was a combination of all those things that made Stiles turn in place to face her. He just wanted to say everything that was in his mind; he wanted to tell Lydia everything that had been troubling him, he wanted to confess to her that ever since that day in the locker room he would think of kissing her at least once a day, and that with their 'newfound' friendship, not doing so was much worse of a torture than it had been for the amount of time he'd had a crush on her and she'd ignored him. Because he knew what it was like now, and though that day his mind had been panicking and focusing more on his missing father at the time, he could still vividly remember the way Lydia's lips felt against his. It was a memory he returned to many times; and he _really _wanted to explain that to her, to tell her how he _was _aware of the way with which she looked at him sometimes.

But it was as if all his words caught up in his throat, and all he could do was look right at Lydia with all of his thoughts clashing against each other. It built up inside him like hot lava of a volcano waiting to erupt, and he just _really _wanted her to know, because he just simply found it hard to believe that after all of that, after all the things they'd been through... _Maybe I'm thinking too highly of myself... _But... _I mean... _"You've got to feel it too." Stiles heard himself voice, and before he even knew what he was doing, he lifted a hand to rest it under Lydia's chin, nudging her face just gently in his direction before simply leaning forward until his lips had crashed against hers in a light kiss, that damned be all, Stiles had been holding back for _way_ toolong.

Lydia didn't know what she had been expecting; that she could magically be okay with Stiles confessing to her what she already knew? That he had a crush on her since forever? But it wasn't just that, there was more, so much more. Every since things had began to fall into place; how things had changed in their relationship; she had had that tiny bit of awareness. It began to manifest, a little each day, but she couldn't do anything about it, because of Jackson; because she was afraid.

Stiles was nothing like Jackson, and she didn't want to ruin him, she wasn't the nicest person; she was getting better, sure, however there were times when she simply couldn't be that kind of girl. It was just reflex to say cruel things to people so that they wouldn't see something to make them want to leave. But Stiles, he saw something in her even before she did. He may be spastic and awkward, but he was loyal and kind. Him and Scott both; they did everything for the people they cared for most. Another thing that she didn't want happening was for their friendship to be ruined, Lydia didn't want to be the one that did that, because she knew that Stiles would never do anything to hurt her.

Yet, the moment Stiles lips crashed against hers she felt something click inside her; something she had been only a tiny bit aware of, and her eyes closed before she fully realised what Stiles had done... and that she was responding. "Stiles, please." As much as she wanted to kiss Stiles, the many things she'd previously thought about kept her from doing so; so many reasons to pull away, so many reason why she could stay. She didn't think about it, didn't let herself stop from gingerly pushing him away with her hands on his chest, with the softest of apologies dropping from her lips. "I can't, I'm sorry." She said, and without even thinking twice about it she stood, took her things and moved toward the door, running down the stairs in the direction of her front door and her car.

"Lydia!" Stiles stood, trying to do whatever he could to stop her, but he'd been too slow; he'd been thinking about how she'd shortly responded, and next thing he knew he was watching her leave, and just as quickly he was listening his front door shutting and the engine of a car starting and roaring away from his parking space.

One thing was being unable to see Stiles that way, and another was responding the way that she had and running away from the situation. Though, _who am I kidding? _Stiles probably would have done the same had he been in her shoes. But... _Fuck! _That was exactly the sort of reaction he'd feared; Lydia was his friend, and his attempts at taking the so called 'next step' (that let's face it, was a thing in his mind for longer than their friendship) had made her leave. And now...

"Goddamn it!" He spat the moment the situation sunk in. His hands lifted to rub against his face and all he could do was collapse on his bed. Because all he could think of was the look in Lydia's face before she'd left.

Stiles didn't move for a good while, his mind ran with thoughts and burnt with the smallest specks of regret. Even when the pizza man knocked on the door he didn't greet him with the usual smile. Because all he could think of for the rest of the day were the six horrible words that haunted every corner of his mind...

_Have I truly just ruined everything?_

**To Be Continued.**


	2. Chapter 2: Drunken Words, Sober Actions

Ever since that night with Stiles, Lydia had made any and every effort to avoid him; at school, in the parking lot, every place that he could and would show up to attempt to speak to her, she stayed away from. It was a hard task, though, when they had classes together and she had to start packing her things minutes before the bell even rung so she could escape any unwanted situation before it presented itself; it also didn't help that she was reminded of the way his lips had felt against hers whenever she saw him.

It was so obvious something was going on between them; Lydia even noticed their mutual friend, Scott, darting his eyes from her to Stiles with concern etched upon his features, and his lips pressed together in a firm line. Could he possibly smell her denial? Had Stiles told him about her rejection? She didn't know the answer to any of those questions, but a few days had passed since that day in Stiles' room, and Lydia Martin had decided to call her best friend, Allison, to convince her to go to a party with her; for they both needed to let off steam, have a girl's night. When did they ever get a break from the boys? There were so many of them in the pack that Lydia and Allison rarely got the chance to be outside of their homes without one of them trailing along.

Of course, after a bit, Allison agreed, and Lydia had offered to lend her an outfit for the night; a night that raged on with fun for both friends, fun that could have both of them almost forgetting about their teenage problems as much as the supernatural ones; and after some drinks, some dancing, and a lot of fun, both girls decided that they needed to get back to one of their houses to sleep away the drunkenness they both found themselves suffering from; Lydia more than Allison. So they walked, they talked; more so, Allison spoke about Scott while Lydia listened. It wasn't like Lydia could really share her boy problems with her friend, she could go and tell Scott, who then would tell Stiles and then all her trying to forget would have been for naught. "Ally, why do some boys have to be so cute?" She suddenly wondered, sighing dramatically for a short second. "With their stupid cute faces, and big eyes." The words left her lips before she could remember not to share her woes over a certain gangly youth; Lydia thought getting drunk would relieve her from such thoughts, but the only thing it did was intensify them. So she ended up unable to stop herself from grumbling whilst walking beside her best friend, both wishing the boy she thought of was beside her, and glad that he couldn't see her in her condition.

What Lydia didn't know, was that only meters away from them, Scott and Stiles rested in Beacon Hill's General Park. In his own way, Stiles had been haunted by what had happened that day in his bedroom; all he'd been able to do was think about her lips and the complete rejection that shone upon her features: while he drove to school, while he worked on her homework alone for the first time in weeks, while he ate, while he talked to Scott; even when he slept Stiles dreamt of Lydia kissing him and leaving. It had gotten to the point in which simply looking at her made him frown due to the thoughts invading his mind at all times of the day. Especially when he sat on his usual seat beside Lydia's in the classes they had together; Stiles barely even looked at her because he was scared to find nothing good in her expression; because of days it felt like he truly had ruined their friendship, and as much as he wanted to pull her aside so he could have a talk with her, it all became next to impossible due to her constant and _very _evident need to suddenly avoid him.

So, no; Lydia Martin and Stiles Stilinski had barely crossed paths for days, and his best friend had noticed. '_What's up with you and Lydia?' _He'd asked once and again once Stiles told him he didn't want to talk about it at first. Of course, it didn't take much to break him, not by Scott, anyway. Stiles had told him everything; told him about the way he'd been feeling around her, the little things that confused him greatly since the so called 'friend date', the kiss, the look in Lydia's eyes before she basically ran away from his home. And because of it Scott had told him that he needed to relax; follow his own advice as he'd once told him and get drunk. _'What was it that you told me?' _Scott had asked. _'"I'm your friend, and I'm here to get you drunk after being broken up with?"'_ Well, yes; but the problem was that Stiles hadn't been broken up with. Lydia was his _friend. _Maybe not even that anymore because he'd ruined _everything. _

And that's how Scott and Stiles ended up in Beacon Hills General Park; Scott sat completely sober on a bench near the main trail that crossed the town, and Stiles stumbled onto the grass right in front of him. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuk." Stiles laughed as he fell; and even in his state, Stiles felt bad for Scott's inability to get drunk, because lord knew he had some stuff to try to forget as well. "Whoops!" The cheery tone of his voice surprised Stiles himself as he rolled onto his back; one hand on the asphalt trail and the rest of his body on the cool grass that refreshed him completely. He could hear Scott laughing, voicing his amused retorts at Stiles' state and even _asking _him if the whole drunk thing was working.

And in all honesty, Stiles didn't know if it was working or not. He wasn't a hundred percent aware of what he was thinking, nor saying; maybe that meant that it _was _working. "I don't know, man." He replied, "I mean, ho-hoooow?" His head shook. "Please, tell me, how does one go from hanging out so much and being close and stuff, and then just... poof." Stiles' hands flailed shortly in front of his face prior to falling against the grass with a pair of thuds and a loud sigh leaving his lips. "...Nothing." Maybe it wasn't working; clearly Lydia wouldn't leave Stiles' mind, basically... well, ever.

"Maybe you should try talking to her." Scott told him, with a half serious, half amused tone; something that only made Stiles laugh. He didn't know how it had happened; but one moment he was flailing over his best friend' reply, and the next he was hearing the clicking of heels on asphalt accompanied by the voice of the very girl he was thinking about. Had Stiles lost his mind in such a manner that he was actually now hearing her voice in his head?

"Lydiaaaaaaaaaaa." He chanted second prior to laughing, shaking his head and forcing his frame to sit up on the grass to look in Scott's direction; who, as soon as Stiles' eyes settled on him, he saw was now smiling and talking to someone tall, sexy, brunette hair, ringlets. _Allison? _"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiine." Stiles sighed, flailing a hand in his friend's direction in a mindless motion before looking in front of him again. "I'll just, I'll be here doi—heeeeeeeeeeeeeey, Lydia!" The smile that crossed Stiles' lips was only a mirror of his intoxication, and one of his hands lifted in such a wave that he probably would have felt a little embarrassed of if he'd been sober.

First hearing Lydia in his head and then seeing her? Or could she actually be standing there really close on the trail not even many steps away from him? Whatever the truth, Stiles still waved and smiled. It was the closest he'd been to talking to her in days, so _if I 'm losing my mind, might as well do it thoroughly. _He thought.

In turn, when Lydia heard her name being called in such a manner her steps stopped and stared at the culprit who spoke, watching him wave with such adorable motions. _Oh _she thought, once she realised it'd been Stiles. Nervously sliding her tongue over her lips, her head tilted to the side as her own thoughts tried to make sense of what was actually happening. "I was just talking..." She started, a finger pointing in his direction. "Uh... this is weird." She hoped Stiles couldn't see the way she studied him, closely, trying to see if it was really him of if it was the universe's way of telling her to be a big girl, pull her fears aside, and go talk to Stiles.

And it wasn't like Allison could save her, the brunette girl was suddenly too busy talking to Scott and sliding into a love bubble to realise much of anything. "Get a room." She told them in a mutter of her breath, a smile illuminating her features, deciding in that very moment that she was going to ignore Allison and Scott because their cute would make her hurl. Instead, she shifted her sight to return to Stiles and allowed her hand to raise in a reciprocating wave with a wiggle of dainty digits; wondering why he was out there, laying in the grass, and not sleeping in bed.

Stiles blinked his eyes a few times, not truly being able to form many rational thoughts other than the horrid rush that made him have to shake his head; but then, once that whole thing had gone away, he solely focused on Lydia, and even in the sate he was in the distance between them both felt like nothing but a mirror of the expression that had crossed her face prior to her leaving that day in his bedroom. So he sighed. "Hey!" He called shortly after in the strawberry blonde's direction. "Hey! Lydia!" A hand lifted from its place on the grass, moving back and forth in a motion that was meant to call the very girl in his every thought forward, in other words, toward him. And even drunk, all he could think was _Please, don't leave. Please... _

As she watched him, Lydia realised that not being around Stiles had had her missing a lot of things about him; not that she would admit to that out loud, or fully let the thought develop in her mind, but it was true. She was there, though. Steps away from Stiles, and there was no real way of getting out of the situation without abandoning Allison for seemingly no reason; and Lydia may be a lot of things, but a horrible friend was not one of them. "Hm?" She called. "Yes, Stiles?" _Or maybe that's a delusion. _She thought as she moved forward in the boy's direction. Maybe she was a horrible friend; she was supposed to have been Stiles' and she'd ran away like a child.

She couldn't help but snicker at the way his hand moved; why was that amusing? She instantly blamed it on the alcohol she'd ingested not too long ago. _I guess I can tolerate his company. _She thought; she would do it, in the name of her friendship to Allison, and not because she _really _really wanted to get closer to Stiles at all. Who truly didn't seem like he'd planned on it; in his drunken state he couldn't possibly plan much, but _exactly _due to his intoxication, the side of him that was bold burnt a little more, and though he did honestly want to solely talk to Lydia for a little bit, even if it wasn't about what had happened in his house –because let's be honest, Stiles had missed Lydia so much more than he'd realised that he'd gladly listen to her talk about shopping for a whole day– he found himself sitting up again until he'd caught Lydia's hand in his and gently pulled her toward him until she'd fallen down against him. "Whoa!" She exclaimed; and of course Stiles caught her, he wouldn't let her get hurt, even if he was slowly dying with morphine muting down his every move; no.

He caught her in his arms and actually heard himself laughing once his back met the grass again. _Well, _he thought, _at least I cushioned her fall. _"Sorry." Stiles kept laughing, but he didn't exactly let go of her for a few seconds, even if his arms were loose around her; he simply enjoyed holding her for as long as he was able to.

Which was longer than he'd expected; because instead of pushing away from him, Lydia was laughing. She'd attempted to be annoyed at the close proximity, or the fact that she'd been swiped from her feet in the first place, but he hadn't been able to. She hadn't because her friend was laughing; a laughter that only reminded her of the things she'd missed. "I was gonna..." She started; and she was going to tear herself away from him, but suddenly she was too comfortable to move, or maybe too lazy due to her own intoxication. "Hmm, I forgot." With a sigh, Lydia rested her cheek against Stiles' chest, then pressed a finger against the fabric of his shirt while her eyes closed for a moment; only to open again to the sound of another wave of his laughter tooting from his insides to her ears, and even feeling the vibration of his chest against her face. "You having fun, Stiles?" She wondered, not even waiting for him to reply before a brand new set of words escaped her lips. "You're really comfy, did you know that?"

Of course Stiles was enjoying the fact that Lydia hadn't pulled away; yet he had still laughed at the rush of her words. Not only because the situation was very weird, with it being the first time they interacted since the kiss at his home, but because he didn't actually care about that fact. It was Lydia and him (and Scott and Allison over in the bench near him, not that he minded them much), there, together. And she'd just called him comfortable. "No, I did not know that, actually." He admitted. "Thanks, that's so sweet." He chuckled again; only, when he did so, all he could smell was Lydia's shampoo. Of course, like a good creep, Stiles inhaled. "Whoaaaa." He said. "Your hair smells nice." Another drunken short chuckle escaped him as he held the strawberry blonde. "You're very pretty, Lydia, did you know that?"

Before she had accidentally stumbled into Stiles, both literally and figuratively, she had been thinking about him; but she had also felt miserable enough to drink herself stupid, which was hard to do, considering her IQ level. At that moment, however, Lydia was feeling more relaxed, as well as more elated than usual. She knew that at some point she would have to move, though she didn't want that happening any time soon; in fact, she felt as if she wanted to stay there all night with Stiles, until it was time to go to school, or whatever awaited them the next day. Maybe not even then; maybe she could skip the next day's activities and continue using Stiles as a pillow. "Mmhmm, I know." She simply replied to his words, reaching up to pat Stiles' cheek, a hum of agreement passing her lips at his observation whilst her fingers caressed over the smoothness of his skin, his moles. She smiled, moving only so that she could rest her head on his shoulder; her nose becoming closer to the crook of his neck. "But sniffing hair is something Peter would do." She stated. "He's all... nice voice, pretty words and creepy hair sniffing. And you..." Exhaling out a breath, Lydia pressed her lips together, then slowly glanced upward at her friend whilst bringing her hand to rest over Stiles' shoulder and a snicker escaped her lips. "You're super cute." She admitted before even realising she'd spoken. "Adorable, really. And nice, very nice."

Stiles could listen to her speak for hours on end; every single word, of which unfortunately he understood, or fully grasped, only half of, made his smile remain across his lips regardless of if Lydia had brought up Peter, of all people. But if that's how he responded to the Peter talk, the way he responded to Lydia's words of him had lifted Stiles' mood onto a whole other level: his eyes lit up, his smile widened and his expression shifted to one of utter surprise, possibly exaggerated due to the alcohol in his system He actually gasped, shortly and exaggeratedly as he continued holding her. "Really?" He asked; the short breathy chuckle that escaped his lips was one of disbelief, because... _Did Lydia just say I was cute? _It wasn't even in an '_aww, you're cute' _mocking way_. _"You really think so?" Stiles feelt her light touches with bright and sharp senses while attempting to look into her eyes.

"I don't think, Stiles; I know." There was something about being outside and close to someone you cared deeply for that relaxed Lydia into doing exactly what she spoke of. She wouldn't allow herself to think, she's simply _do. _"I know lots." All she ever did was over think and analyze everything from an intellectual standpoint; maybe that was why certain things didn't even the way she'd wanted them to.

Drunk or not, Stiles knew her words were a big deal; probably only to him, but still. "It's just the alcohol talking, isn't it?" He chuckled once again. "It so is."

Even as comfortable as she found herself, Lydia rose herself enough to be able to look down at him with elevated brows and a quirking to her lips. "They say drunk words are sober thoughts." She spoke in a whisper as if she were sharing a secret with her friend, unable to understand why she'd spoken such words; and more so unable to understand why the filter she usually had seemed inexistent out of nowhere.

His eyes refused to do anything but look into Lydia's once he became able to; an expression of utter disbelief toward her words, and adoration toward her features plastered itself on Stiles' face. And there, looking up into her beautiful orbs, he understood; or at least he thought he did, he was drunk after all. But whatever it was that had clicked inside him had made him take a long breath while his own eyes danced on hers; a hand lifted to rest gently on the place where her jaw became her cheek, and with amber hues he communicated what he could, what he wanted. "If drunken words are sober thoughts, then what are drunken actions?" He wondered in a whisper to mirror her own; and he didn't ask, he didn't want to. All he did was lift his head from the grass a couple of inches while gently pulling her face toward his. _Screw it _he thought; he wanted to kiss Lydia, and may whatever storm fall if it may.

One moment he'd stopped with his lips brushing against hers, maybe to give her the opportunity to move away, maybe for his own satisfaction, but he did, and then his lips pressed gently against hers whilst the previous chant from his mind echoed in young thoughts one more time. _Please don't leave, please stay... _

_Don't think, don't think. _Lydia mantra'd in her own head, but she was unable to stop herself. She couldn't stop thinking of the way he looked at her, thinking about the guilt, the fear that she couldn't possibly do that to him. Something about being in the state of mind she found herself in didn't feel right; that even though she knew Stiles wouldn't regret such actions in the morning, maybe she might. "Stiles." She pulled away quickly, blinking away the daze, her voice tainted with pleading. She wanted so badly to give him what he wanted; however she was scared, it wouldn't be fair to him.

He sighed, his head falling back toward the grass and nodding. "I know, I know." He said as soon as he'd found his voice; maybe all he'd wanted was to try, see if drunken actions led to sober wishes or something of the sort, and his eyes had lifted to look at the sky above Lydia's head, his hand even starting to fall away from her frame to allow her the exit she was sure to take, when suddenly she started speaking again.

"No, I'm not sure that you do." The words weren't meant to be harsh, yet they still made Stiles' eyes fall on hers with continued disbelief. Lydia solely wanted him to understand the intent of her actions; because, yes, it was easy to get wrapped up in the excitement, but every single time she'd needed comfort, or needed to talk to someone Stiles had been there. He was her friend, yet he was much more than that; he was someone that Lydia actually cared about, and when one cares about someone, one doesn't want to hurt that person.

She could let Stiles kiss her, but what kind of person would that make her? What if in the end she didn't feel that way in return? Stiles had had to deal with the frustration for so many years, and now she was beginning to see him; _really _see him. She didn't want to add him to her list of boys that she had a momentary interest in then tossed aside when she was done with them. "It's not that I don't want to." She worded, only beats after her previous words, her thoughts taking less to jumble than she thought. "It's just..." She frowned. "I want this to be right." She decidedly admitted. "You're different, Stiles. And you deserve to not be lead on. I... I care too much about you to do that to you." Even if she couldn't kiss him on the lips, Lydia still moved closer to him to place a delicate peck on his cheek. "Kiss me when I'm more sober, hm?" Her fingers squeezed his reassuringly, and she gave him a genuine smile, as well as a look, only meant for moments that showed how much he really and truly surprised the strawberry blonde in so many ways. "Look at you." She joked lightly. "Making me into a nice, good person who cares."

Stiles simply blinked; not only his eyes danced on hers with held disbelief, but her hand had caught his own in such a way he'd only ever _dreamed _of. Sure, there'd been times before when they would both hold hands shortly, without truly realising so –At least she didn't, he was _always _even a little bit aware– but the way she did it at that moment? Lydia's fingers so calmly entwined with his, her words flowing inside his head in such a manner that left him in complete shock because... was he actually hearing such words? Lydia wanted to kiss him but she cared enough about him to not see him as the kind of boy she'd been with in the past? Could she possibly care about him like _that?! _"You do?" He whispered, as he attempted to hold her gaze. Had she truly spoken those words, or had his intoxication started to mess with his head more than he thought possible?

Even her light attempt at humour made Stiles blink because he hadn't been able to fully grasp the whole thing. He'd been too stuck on her other words. The best way he could describe it was that... he'd wished to hear those words fall from Lydia's lips many times before, yet now that they had... he simply couldn't believe them. "You care about me like that?" All he could do was look into her gentle hues with complete disbelief and hope. Was it a dangerous hope? He didn't know; hell, he didn't care. It was hope brought by Lydia Martin, and it was not going anywhere now.

"Really, Stiles?" Her head shook; she didn't know how to express herself to Stiles, and she knew she was probably confusing at times, but the thought that Stiles didn't know of the extent in which she cared... She hadn't even realised when her affection for Stiles had started, or even how; yet it had. "I haven't cared about anyone like that since Jackson, and he was a giant ass at times." All she knew was that she didn't regret one thing; things were looking up, and another genuine smile formed on her lips whilst she forced her eyes to remain on his, even as her head shook gently.

His brows rose at first, because not only had her tone hardened enough for Stiles to stop doubting everything for a second or two, but the words she'd uttered made him pay more attention that he thought his drunk brain capable of. The manner in which Lydia spoke of Jackson, or the way she felt, even the way her hand suddenly moved in his; it all made Stiles even more aware. Not sober; _definitely _not sober, but aware.

There was a moment of silence in which all he could think of was the way his relationship with Lydia had flourished, the way she had stopped looking like a deity to him and started becoming a friend; someone he could count on, someone that he could protect and defend and _know _much more than he would have if she had never paid attention to him, and it made sense. Not her words; her words didn't make a hundred percent sense, but that was just because he was drunk, and they were all a little hard to believe. Yet, what he did understand of them made Stiles smile.

It was a motion that Lydia watched with light amusement, because she felt as if maybe he thought he was dreaming; she found absolutely adorable the way in which his eyes blinked or widened ever so slightly, even the way in which his mouth opened as he thought things over. He had that look he always got when he was trying to piece together a puzzle, trying to figure it out.

She wasn't sure if he'd be able to make sense of anything at that moment, nor if _she _would, since they were both inebriated; but it was Stiles, and fuzzy-brained or not, he always tended to put the puzzle pieces together. And Lydia also hoped that the boy would know that even though she was drunk, she was genuine, regardless of her own state of mind. "You're too precious for Beacon Hills, Stiles." She admitted with her lack of filter again, before lowering her frame to press a kind and reassuring kiss to Stiles' cheek one more time.

**To Be Continued.**


	3. Chapter 3: If I Stay

"Will you walk me home?" Stiles' awestruck reverie broke by Lydia's voice calling upon him, and though he blinked a couple of times, realising he'd been staring at her all this time, he nodded. Of _course _he nodded; walking Lydia home had become one of his favourite things. He did it as often as he could, if anything, to make sure she got home perfectly okay; so with her asking him it didn't take long for him to reply.

"Of course." Long digits squeezed her own for a short moment while a smile painted his face with joy, and somehow, though a little more clumsily than usual due to the alcohol consumed, Stiles managed to stand from the ground without letting her hand go so he could use it to help her stand. "It would be my pleasure." Allowing a kind chuckle to leave his lips, Stiles made sure to secure her rise from the ground as much as he'd cushioned her fall before: as carefully as he drunkenly could.

Lydia attempted to help Stiles help her, she wanted to sound teasing, but the words she said to him made her wonder how he could stay so much like... well, like Stiles, when he lived in a town such as Beacon Hills. It made her admire him more, as well as wish for his company so she could figure out how he didn't lose his mind on a regular basis. Her eyes snuck a glance up at him, her arm going to wrap around his while considering the action of resting her head against his shoulder. "You know, Stiles, you're a lot taller than I ever realised." She admitted, tilting her head shortly. "How did I never see something like that?" It was not hard to laugh at herself for not seeing the height difference; perhaps it had never been a thing to think about, maybe they'd been so busy with supernatural stuff that she didn't really pay attention, but now that they were doing yet another mundane thing, she noticed it.

In fact, she noticed a lot more about him; not that she hadn't, over the short time in which they'd become close, but it was different now. Everything was so very different. It was something Stiles easily recognised, because he continued on blinking away his disbelief at his friend due to the words she'd spoken to him continuing to play in his mind like a little loop that did nothing but make the boy smile. Regardless of if most of him still believed her earlier words were result of her intoxication, the rest of him wondered the many ways in which it could all be true in one way or another; and the possibilities made the smile across his lips become absolutely unbreakable.

Yet, once he stood, his senses became aware once again, and he heard Allison laughing shortly steps near him. _Uh Oh. _He'd forgotten about Scott and Allison in the bench near them. "Yo!" He said, daring a look in their direction, genuinely glad to see them laughing, smiling, and as close as ever. They both looked in his direction; clearly everyone had been in their own little world. "I'm walking Lydia home." He announced, and even in his state, Stiles was able to see the _look_ Scott sent him. "I'll text you, okay?"

Lydia's mind echoed with an _Oh my god. _When she realised she'd forgotten about her other two friends, and it downed on her that Scott had probably heard every single word spoken between her and Stiles, though probably minded none of it, _or _shared it with Allison. She didn't know if she should laugh, or dig a hole for herself and die; instead of doing either of those things, Lydia's free hand rose and her fingers wiggled in a wave towards both of them. "Bye, Scotty!" She called, halfway drunkenly. "Love you, Allison! Be safe you two!" Lowering her voice, she turned around, pulling Stiles along with her and raising her gaze to look at Stiles as a saccharine smile formed on her lips and she leaned even closer so he could hear her. "Try not to share anything we spoke about tonight, hm?" Knowing full well that, even though her tone was quieter, Scott could hear the words she murmured to Stiles, which was her intention; she wanted them both to know that, even if they were both privy to their confessions or drunken ramblings, she wasn't about to allow it to be shared with other people. At least not yet.

So, true, Scott had been there, and though Stiles didn't fully forget about him, it had been easy to basically do that for a few moments when Lydia was resting on top of him confessing words that made him want to flail; only to remember that they weren't alone when he stood up and helped her stand as well, and happened to see Scott and Allison in her side vision . And now, as him and Lydia walked away all he could do was chuckle in response to her words, because he was sure she'd _had _to know Scott had heard at least half of it.

So, with that as his argument, Stiles continued leading Lydia away from Allison and Scott and toward her home. "I hope that doesn't count my best friend." He worded. "But I assure you that I won't yell it from the rooftops regardless of how much I'd love to." Had that been overly informational? Probably, but it was the truth; and drunken, and with next to no filter, it was bound to be said.

They talked continuously during their whole trip, using the subject of friendship, or the rules that worked for it, for a while; of absolutely nothing that made sense, yet everything that did all at the same time for the rest; they laughed, they joked, her head rested on his shoulder as they walked, they truly seemed like a couple that night. "You can have some water at my house, or something to eat." She offered at one point. Though one thing that Lydia failed to think about was how Stiles would be getting to his home; would he call Scott? Would he take a taxi? As long as he got home safely... It was a thought that continued to beat inside her mind for as long as they walked, but then the houses started getting familiar. Elevating her line of sight to look up at her friend, Lydia's smile was small, however, it was genuine; and as much as she didn't want to move away from him, she began to gently pull him toward the direction of her house while cheerfully announcing that they were almost at her door. "My mother is probably away for the weekend." She admitted. "Or she's asleep, but she won't bother us."

Of course, Stiles hadn't truly even noticed how long they'd walked, nor where they were, but when she started speaking to him about going to her room and the lack of parental figures, he found himself feeling surprised. "Oh." It was all he could say for a second while nodding in thanks to Lydia, allowing his smile to remain and forcing his now partly drunken brain to not start getting any ideas. "Okay, thank you." He cleared his throat and took a breath. "You're going to eat too, right?" He inquired, remembering her previous words about food to accompany the water. "I wouldn't want to just..."

She couldn't help but lightly laugh at Stiles as she glanced over to look at his face; it was like he was thinking about something else regardless of what she'd told him. "Of course I will." She admitted, her head shaking once. "I'm going to have some water too." Once they stood steps away from her front door, Lydia's hand dropped Stiles' arm, then walked forward to open the door; and for a moment it felt odd to not have her friend close to him, she felt even a little cold, it made her rub her hands together as her shoulder pushed the door wider so that Stiles could come in right behind her. Which he did, yet Lydia didn't exactly see at first due to the fact that as soon as they were inside she walked directly to the kitchen to prepare a light meal and two glasses of water to take up to her room, but before she disappeared in the confines of the room, she turned back to look at a curious Stiles, if anything, to make sure he'd remembered to close the door behind him.

Of course he hadn't been able to do anything but watch her as she moved; slowly, then quickly, then carefully, then looking in his direction... Stiles smiled, of course; anytime Lydia looked in his direction he smiled. And his heart did not stop beating wildly from the moment he'd crossed the threshold of her home, for he'd been there before, of course, a few times; but never drunk, nor aware of Lydia's thoughts of him in the manner she'd made him aware of back in the park. And as he closed the door behind him, Stiles allowed his eyes to wonder nervously all over the place. His frame turned, orbs wondering around him at the ceiling, the floor, the neat furniture that surrounded him as if he'd never seen it before, or as if he were seeing it all under a brand new light, studying the frames on some tables that displayed a happy Lydia with his mom and sister. The short display of movies under the television set in the living room, the unused fireplace, everything too dark to truly see, but still engulfing him with wonder and nervousness as much as when he'd first entered the home.

And he'd been so invested on those actions, that the moment Lydia's words reached his ears again he was surprised, and maybe a little more nervous as he set down a picture frame back on its place, whilst looking like a kid who'd just been caught stealing a cookie from the jar. "Stiles, I made you a s..." Her words had faded the moment her eyes fell on him, making her stand still, watching him with curious eyes and a halfway amused expression. "What are you doing?" She wondered, hands clasped in front of her, smiling.

"I, yo-uh. Nothing." Stiles stuttered, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his head before shaking it. "Just looking, I was—" He cleared his throat, eyes narrowing shortly. "Yeah, I was just looking."

Lydia's scoffed breath was barely audible, but her head shook shortly prior to her feet leading her forward until she stood a few inches from Stiles, one of her hands lifting and resting on his wrist gingerly. "Come on." She said, pulling him calmly with her and directing him toward the kitchen, where she'd left their plates of food and his cup of water. "I made you a sandwich, hope that's okay."

Stiles was easily led away from where he'd been standing, partly embarrassed, partly nervous, and mostly wondering why he even felt those emotions in the first place. "It's more than okay, thank you—whoa, that looks delicious." He admitted the moment they entered the kitchen, looking at the toasted sandwich that seemed more like a picture out of a restaurant menu than a homemade meal. He was almost too hesitant to take the plate, which only made him look in her direction as if he were asking for her permission to take it. When she smiled and nodded once, Stiles didn't think twice on taking the dish from the counter. "Thank you."

Drunk or not, he had her shaking her head and laughing lightly at the manner in which he was acting. She couldn't understand his hesitation over taking what she'd made for him; maybe it was because part of this was all new, maybe he was just intoxicated. Whichever the case, Lydia just gave him a smile, shrugged her shoulders, and nodded her head. "You're welcome." Her hand reached down to take a piece of fruit of the plate on the counter she rested against before looking in his direction once again. "And thank you for walking me home."

"Of course." He replied; and as she bit into the piece of fruit, Lydia watched her friend with a curious expression on her face. It was strange sometimes, how people could surprise her, how certain things she'd never noticed before could make her feel a little strange. In all honesty, Lydia Martin never thought she'd be in her kitchen with Stiles Stilinski in the middle of the night after drinking, innocently eating food. She was used to the danger, the investigating, the exchanging of ideas once and again as they presented themselves and they'd both try to figure it out; never just socially until a few months ago since their friendship had taken a strange turn. But being like that, just standing there eating, it was so out of her element that she almost felt scared; though she did like knowing that having a boy over did not automatically equal doing anything more than just standing in the kitchen. It was one of the many things she enjoyed realising whenever Stiles was around.

"What about your food?" He suddenly wondered, breaking her from her reverie and seeming a little self conscious as he took his plate with both hands; Lydia hadn't noticed he'd downed the water in his glass already. She blinked, allowing her lips to lift in a smile and moving a little to the side so the bowl she'd been snatching pieces of cut fruit rested, pointing at it before lifting another piece and placing it in her mouth with her fingers. "Oh."

That only made Lydia smile a little wider; her hands moved to take the plate from the counter, and motioned with her head to the side. "Come on." She encouraged, setting Stiles' empty glass on the sink before using that same hand to make him let go of the plate to hold with only one hand, and lead him away from the kitchen toward the stairs. "Just promise not to let crumbs get in the bed, alright?" She joked, a smile edged on her lips with no doubts, and tugged him along gently up the stairs whilst listing another request. "Oh, and take your shoes off, please. We were both in grass, and I don't want to stain the carpet."

Stiles' heart was beating wildly inside his chest and the nerves rose up inside him once again with each step he took up the stairs; something he was partly able to ignore due to the short instructions she'd been voicing. He nodded, of course, even though that last request surprised her. "Okay." It wasn't until they both entered her room that Stiles' nerves seemed to shoot in such a high intensity that he believed them to be gone. Instead, his eyes wondered about the room momentarily to find a place to set his plate on so that he could untie his sneakers; and once he found one, he moved to set it on Lydia's desk somewhat shyly prior to his kneeling to take off his shoes. "I swear, you'll find no crumbs once I'm done, it'll be like I was never even here." He bewilderedly babbled, fingers unknotting the laces of his shoes. "_So _clean."

Maybe Lydia was worried about what her mother would say, but she was trying to be extra careful about everything; however, she didn't really think about the number of dishes that would be sitting in her room, or that there would be two empty glasses in the sink. So telling Stiles to take off his shoes had been pointless, regardless of the stain excuse, yet there he was, taking them off. _What am I thinking? _She wondered, but it was already too late to tell him he could keep them on, so she simply watched, continuing to eat her fruit until there was none left. She placed the empty bowl beside Stiles' sandwich and smiled at him once he stood up straight once again. "Hope you don't mind if I change into my PJs?" She wondered instead of answering his babble of thoughts. "It will only take a minute."

"Of course." He repeated as soon as she spoke about getting changed; then he actually realised what he'd said and quickly stuttered to correct himself. "I mean, no." He frowned shortly. "No, of course I don't mind." But before he could properly get those words out, the sound of Lydia's bathroom door echoed closed behind her; and then it was just him standing almost in the middle of her room with no shoes on.

The silence that followed felt too loud, his eyes looked from one side to the next until they fell on the untouched sandwich on his plate. "Holy crap." He whispered as his lids attempted to blink away the nerves, because not only was he in Lydia's room, partly drunk, but she was changing into her pyjamas. Maybe if he hadn't been slightly intoxicated his mind wouldn't have dared to think too much about it, but... well, he'd probably still be a little nervous. "Okay, Stiles. Get a grip." He whispered encouragingly to himself before looking around Lydia's room one more time and deciding to sit on her desk chair so he could eat his sandwich; lest he forget to try not to drop crumbs anywhere as she'd requested. He truly needed to try and not think too much about the girl in the room near him, or what she was doing; or the fact that in order to change she had to strip down onto her underwear, which meant she would be nearly naked only feet away from him with only a door to separate them.

He was clearly failing.

Especially because all he could suddenly think while eating his sandwich was about the one time he'd seen Lydia Martin basically naked; she'd been dirty, trembling, leaves on her hair, wild strawberry blonde locks that looked like a nest gone wrong, walking down a road. He really should have stopped thinking about it, because he suddenly found himself to be in a _very _uncomfortable position once he glanced a little lower.

In the other room, once the set fresh pyjamas were set on a surface, the first thing Lydia did was turn the tap on so she could wash the day off her face; she knew she should be a little bit nervous about the manner in which Stiles would see her, but he _had _witnessed her appearance in more vulnerable states, so perhaps that was the thought beating at her brain to make the worry seem inexistent. Even still, it caused her to be a little reluctant to leave the bathroom; nobody had gotten to see her that way, with the guys she'd been she always forced herself to wear make up to bed, wore her smallest lingerie, fixed her hair, made sure she looked perfect; but then there she was, removing every spot of make up from her face, tying her hair into a messy bun, knowing Stiles was just outside.

Moving about the bathroom helped clear her thoughts, she was just being silly, he was one of her closest friends; Stiles was probably the only person she would allow to stay in her room for as long as she had without anything _else _happening, which was strange. Maybe not for Stiles, but for _Her. _Her eyes averted from the mirror as she brushed her teeth, her mind beating around the many thoughts of the manner in which her life had changed since that prom night, or earlier.

When she was finished brushing her teeth, Lydia made sure her used clothes were in a neat pile in a corner of the bathroom so she could remember to put them in the wash in the morning, she took a long breath into her lungs, then let it out while opening the door into her bedroom. "Don't laugh, alright?" She didn't know why she'd said it, but she did; tucking a strand of hair that managed to get free from the binding, behind her ear.

Stiles had actually become thankful for the time Lydia had taken in the washroom, because not only had he been able to mentally talk himself out of the little awkwardness he'd found himself in, but he'd also been able to finish eating his sandwich with enough time left to clean up the couple of accidental crumbs that had fallen on the table, with a Kleenex from a pink box on Lydia's desk. But he found himself raising his brows at her odd request; he stood from the chair, moving to throw the Kleenex on a garbage bin, but that's when his eyes found her once again. She didn't stand there for long, in fact, Lydia just moved away from the doorway toward her bed, sitting gracefully atop it and crossing her legs under her. "Why would I laugh?" He asked, genuinely confused for what felt like the millionth time that night.

But she shrugged, and instead of replying to his inquiry, she changed the subject. "If you need the bathroom, it's all yours." She reached for a pillow, hugging it against her chest gently.

Stiles cleared his throat. "Yeah." He said, eyes narrowing shortly at her lack of reply before lifting a hand to point at the washroom whilst a short chuckle escaped his lips. "I'll be quick." He announced, watching Lydia nod and look down at the covers of her bed whilst pressing her lips together on what he believed to be a careful smile. With that, he moved toward the washroom, and walked inside, almost closing the door, when he decided to trace a couple of his steps back until he could poke his head out the doorway and look directly in Lydia's very direction. "You look beautiful, by the way." He stated, watching her head snap up and a halfway shocked expression accompanied by the smallest of smiles crossing her lips, an expression she quickly tried to hide, making Stiles smile for a few moments whilst nodding, patting the doorway once and finally disappearing into the washroom after closing the door behind him.

It wasn't that she was surprised that Stiles thought she looked beautiful, it was just that without her make-up Lydia felt naked and vulnerable. She looked so much younger than usual, and maybe even a little bit innocent, which were things she did not at all consider herself. Her fingers rested on the pillow, her eyes falling to her fingers as they played with a loose string on her pillow case and a sigh escaped her lips; it wasn't a bad sigh, it was one of deep thought, one that had her thinking about Stiles, about their friendship, about what she'd halfway consciously said. One thing she was good at was pretending that everything was okay in times in which they weren't; however at that very moment it wasn't the usual thing that had her feigning ignorance. It was the ache in her chest that had returned from Stiles' compliment; _You look beautiful. _It was not a like that usually had her feeling the way she was at that moment, it was an obvious observation, but Lydia was bare of her armour. She had comfortable looking PJs on, and her hair was messy and simple; she wore simple hairstyles once in a while, when she didn't feel the need to dress herself up, but nobody really noticed; not the way Stiles had. Nobody ever noticed anything the way that he did. It was what scared her, it was what made her want to push those feelings away because she didn't want to act on something that could possibly only exist due to the attention he gave her, attention that was so different from what she usually got from other guys; everyone saw that goofy awkward kid who couldn't sit still and flailed his arms a lot, but did they see the other side of him? He was one of the only people who could keep up with her intellect, as well as the continuous ability to figure things out while being kind and caring toward his friends. It was all she could think of while she wanted for him to get out of the washroom.

For Stiles, though, the moment the door was closed he had basically ran to look at himself in the mirror. _How messy do I look? _He wondered. _Do I smell bad? _He felt dizzy again; even more aware that Lydia was right outside, and truly, he felt as if he were back in freshman year, because he was _there_, and he was nervous, and there was no evil roaming about as a reason for his being there and it was all _too_ real. Maybe because he was still somewhat drunk and everything seemed bigger and more important, or... just _more. _He took a breath, a long one, and then he turned on the water tab so he could wet his face and freshen up a bit to shake away the nerves; it didn't take long, just like he'd told Lydia, but he did have to bewilderedly look into his reflection and let another breath out. "Calm down." He told it, placing his hands on the sink and looking right into his own eyes. "Just calm down." He breathed again, and nodded to himself; mostly because he could still hear the echoes of what Lydia had told him back in the park, or remember the feel of her hand in his, or her head against his shoulder. He sighed, shook his head, and finally forced himself to exit the washroom; his hands rubbed against the sides of his jeans as he looked in Lydia's direction Suddenly thinking _Now what!? _As she looked up at him once again.

"Don't forget to text Scott." Lydia said, lowering the bottle of moisturizer she'd been using and returning it to its place before returning to her perch on her bed, a perfect grin adorning her features, every thought hidden behind her naturally pink lips. "Don't want him scratching at my window wondering why you didn't text him like you said you would."

With a simple nod of his head, Stiles reached for his phone in his pocket, while somewhat shyly and slowly he made his way to sit on the edge of her bed like he'd done a long time ago, like he rarely ever did nowadays during their study hang outs, or even during the investigation of a supernatural being. It made Lydia frown, finding the action off, due to the fact that as of late the invasion of each other's space was a regular thing, hell she'd just been laying on top of him in the park, why was he doing this? He sat maybe one or two feet away from her as to not invade her personal space, and moved his fingers in quick motions to send Scott a quick _I'm okay, with Lydia, no need to worry. Have fuuuun." _And as quick as that first text, Stiles sent one to his dad as well, so that he knew that if he was at all late it had nothing to do with him being dead or anything bad he might conjure up since he became aware of the dangers in the town.

Then his phone was back inside his pocket, and his eyes were back on his friend's, just at the same time that a somewhat innocent grin made it onto his lips. "You want me to, um..." He paused, suddenly fearing she'd find his proposal silly, yet, again, the bit of alcohol that remained in his system made Stiles not doubt things as much as he usually did, so before he'd even truly noticed, he'd spoken his stopped words. "You want me to tuck you in?"

Second odd thing Stiles did; it was like she was making up a mental list. Did she really want to be tucked in by Stiles? Did _Lydia _really want to be tucked in at all? Maybe her own intoxication had something to do with it, but she'd made a face at her friend, except her head betrayed her by nodding. Even when her tone was haughty, her hand reached out to take Stiles'. "What am I, five years old?" Her eyes rolled, and a short huff of air escaped her lips, more so for the giveaway of her limbs as she raised herself from her seat. "Fine." She grumbled out her next response to Stiles. "But if you tell _anyone, _Stiles..." Jabbing a finger in his direction, letting the threat go unspoken, Lydia made a point to press her lips together as she made her way over to her side of the bed. She couldn't believe she was letting him tuck her in, yet at the same time it made a funny feeling take over her stomach.

A smile invaded Stiles' lips the moment Lydia started moving, because not only had she agreed, but they'd basically just agreed upon a brand new secret; something private to both of them. So he stood, unable to remove the smile from his features as he allowed his head to bob in a nod. "I won't." He allowed while waiting for Lydia to move until his long fingers could lift the covers enough for Lydia to get comfortable on the bed. "Wait, is Scott still an exception to that rule?" He wondered out loud in memory of the conversation they'd had on their way from the park, grinning, yet narrowing his eyes while gently covering her frame with the covers once she was settled on the mattress. He tried to remain calm, but all throughout his actions Stiles found himself smiling' even while speaking, even while narrowing his eyes, because he would be lying if he didn't admit – at least to himself – that this was something he'd been wishing to do for a _very _long time.

As much as Lydia pretended not to enjoy this, she secretly did; even though her eyes continued rolling at her friend, there was the smallest of smiles playing on her lips. Yet now that she was getting into bed she was beginning to feel the full effects of her very exciting day; she didn't expect the night to end in such a way, she figured she'd avoid the situation, avoid the feelings that were stirring in her torso, she didn't think that she would be looking up at Stiles with his goofy grin because he was doing something that she hadn't done since she was too young to actually remember. Yet another thing she wouldn't admit to. "You really want to tell Scott?"

Stiles' head shook, the smile still plastered on his lips as he made sure Lydia was actually comfortable and properly tucked in before sitting right beside her so he could face her. "Not if you don't want me to." He admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Contrary to what some people believe I can a_ctually _keep a secret, you know?"

"I know." Before Lydia could think about it her hand went to wrap around Stiles' wrist, and as much as she was fighting sleep her eyes trained on his, almost as if she were worried of him disappearing if she blinked.

The smile adorning his lips was calm, because it was Lydia, because he knew her and she knew him. Because finally he was relaxed and unable to stop smiling, because she was his friend, and he couldn't hide the love that bled into his eyes. "Why don't you try to sleep?" He offered, shifting his hand in hers so he could hold it. "You look tired, and it _is_ late."

Gifting him with a smile, Lydia nodded. To Stiles she seemed relaxed, if anything she seemed like she was concentrating, but she was trying to gain courage. Her lips pressed together, gaze dropping for a moment, a comfortable silence broken only by the freeing words escaping his lips. "I'm going to go." He announced, and Lydia solely nodded, resting her head against the pillows and letting his hand go.

It was his turn to nod, smiling and standing from the bed with an air of tiredness and even a little disappointment. There were no words said other than a gentle _goodnight_ escaping from his lips while he bent over to pick up his shoes, and then he was gone; the door of Lydia's room closed behind him. Another puff of air escaped her lips'; looking at him go made her realise that she could say it, she could feel good about him being there, she could be okay with... "Stay." She called, seconds after the door had closed, her eyes set on it and the boy she hoped was still on the other side.

And he was; he was frozen, his hand on her doorknob and his lips parted as yet another memory flashed inside his mind; one a few years ago when he'd come to check on her and she'd spoken the same words, only they hadn't been meant for him. They'd been meant for Jackson. "Stiles?" Lydia's voice called from inside; that was enough to break the bubble that had formed inside his memory and encourage him to push the door open, his eyes searched hers, watching her form propped on her forearm to look right at him. "Will you..." She starTed in a hushed tone so that if he said no she could blame it on his not hearing her. "...please stay?"

From his place in the doorway he watched her struggle with words, something he never thought he'd see in such a manner, but the reason behind it left Stiles even more speechless. The truth was that Lydia had spoken so lightly the second time that he started to wonder if he'd imagined the first words, and he found himself having to blink and open the door even more, more than absolutely surprised at what he thought he'd heard. "You want me to stay?" He wondered, his hand tightening its hold on the doorknob as hope took home across his features, he was unable to look away, he watched, wondering if he could possibly be more drunk than he thought he was and imagined Lydia speaking such words.

The thing was that Lydia didn't want to repeat herself, yet she continued looking at Stiles; that, in fact, was the only thing keeping her from not trying to go back on what she'd said. How could she say no to Stiles when the weight of his hand on hers had felt like it belonged there moments prior? As well as the fact that just the thought of him leaving had some sort of nerves cursing through her veins. "If you want to." She replied, nodding her head once and giving him a small smile, trying to not look like she wanted or needed it too much. "You don't have to, though. It's your choice." She was asking him to stay the night, in her bed no less. Wasn't it just a few moments ago that she was wondering if pushing back her feelings wouldn't be the best option to not lead him on when she didn't know if her feelings were due to the attention he gave her? But what if they weren't? He was her friend, she cared for hum as such, but... it didn't seem enough. She didn't know, she—

"If I want t—" A short scoffed breath broke Lydia from her frightened reverie, and she watched as Stiles' brows rose in short disbelief at her indirect inquiry. Stiles' hand finally let go of the doorknob, and the door to her room closed behind him once again. "Of course I want to, Lydia." His throat cleared, and for a moment all Stiles could do was blink in surprise at the fact that the words had been real, that Lydia actually wanted him to stay.

A frozen stance that broke the moment she motioned toward the bed under her with her eyes while moving to the side a little, lifting the covers he'd placed on her moments prior. "Then hurry up and get in here, you're going to let all the warm out." It made him move, free the shoes from his hold and take quick steps in her direction prior to taking the covers from her hands.

"Right." Of course he was doing so shyly, and of _course_ he was doing so slowly, because he was honestly expecting her to change her mind at any given moment. And in the morning, when all of it was over and he found himself in his home again, even if Lydia had said that drunken words were sober thoughts, Stiles would blame alcohol for her actions in that very unexpected night. A somewhat apologetic grin took over his lips as he moved quicker to lay beside her and lowered the sheets once again to cover them both. "Sorry."

"You better be." The words with which she spoke were laced with a sort of half teasing, half sleepy tone. It seemed that the more her mind accepted the fact that Stiles was occupying space in her bed the more relaxed it made her; usually it took a while for her to fall asleep due to the impending darkness that clouded her subconscious most of the time when she slept, yet with her friend there, and the light buzz in her head from the alcohol she'd consumed, she seemed specially relaxed.

The grin didn't disappear from Stiles' lips as he moved to get comfortable at her side, only, once there, he allowed whatever was left of alcohol in his system to give him the guts to take Lydia's hand and tug on it gently so that _maybe _she could rest against him. Was he pushing things too far? Well, he guessed he'd figure it out sooner or later if she pulled away or told him she'd changed his mind.

Yet, a grin, as calm as it dared be, adored his lips the moment Lydia looked at him with curious and questioning eyes, a motion that only made him move a shoulder in a short shrug as he allowed himself to attempt a little humour into the situation, only in case she _did_ think he was taking things too far too quickly. "You did tell me I was a comfortable pillow earlier on, Lyds. I'm already staying, so why not take advantage and use me as your pillow tonight?" A carefree and shortly innocent humours scoffed breath left Stiles' lips, and he could only hope Lydia didn't start regretting her choices.

Lydia allowed the smallest of smirks to cross her lips. "For a lanky guy you're awfully comfortable." She worded, while letting out a little breath and allowing her frame to move closer to his until she was halfway resting on him, with her head on his chest and her hand on his heart. "Goodnight, Stiles." She sleepily stated.

A short breathed chuckle escaped Stiles' lips while he watched her head rest on his chest and with surprise, and almost a little bit of disbelief, he watched as her dainty digits curled against his shirt. He nodded; not that she could see it, but he still did, blinking his eyes a couple of times before he allowed himself to speak. "Goodnight, Lydia." He whispered for her, prior to blinking once again and slowly allowing his head to finally rest against her pillows. Stiles found himself resting an arm around her, one of his fingers twirling around a strawberry blonde lock of her hair that fell against her back from the bun she'd untied at some point, and his other hand rested on hers on his chest, his thumb gently caressing the skin of her hand. For a while his eyes remained locked on looking up at the ceiling, and after a few moments all he could hear were Lydia's soft and slow breaths; a short scoffed breath escaped his nose because the reality of the situation seemed... well... _unreal. _

Yes, at some point during their friendship Lydia had stopped looking like a perfect and unattainable deity to him; she'd stopped being that girl who seemed to have everything figured out, whose every step should be revered, who committed no trouble nor mistakes. That girl who hid a gorgeous and smart inside with a cold hearted, equally beautiful yet mean girl attitude toward anyone she deemed unworthy of her attention. Because she'd become an even more perfect human; someone perfectly imperfect. A girl who cares and would go through hell to be able to help anyone she loved; a beautiful gorgeous inside that _finally _showed on the outside for everyone to see in more than her clothes and her make-up, and her always beautiful hair. Lydia had always been beautiful that way, but now she wasn't as scared to show people what Stiles had always known she hid inside. And he learnt more and more about her that way; and, if anything, it made his affections for her grow.

Yet, part of him still saw Lydia Martin as the girl who would never notice him, even now. But there he was, in her bed, with his arms wrapped around her. How could he possibly believe the whole situation wasn't alcohol's magical doing? Whether it was or not, all he had left to do was smile; smile at the ceiling while his slightly inebriated brain continued reminiscing in the facts, and at some point during his thinking, and his gentle and hopefully soothing touches against Lydia's hand and hair, Stiles lost consciousness, and he fell asleep with the girl of his dreams in his arms.

**To Be Continued.**


	4. Chapter 4: The Morning After

It had been the strangest thing; for one moment Stiles Stilinski found himself sitting in a room full of plates adorned with pancakes and bacon, smelling the delicious scent of the entire room, yet somewhere he could hear buzzing. It sounded right against his ear, and he wanted it to stop, because all he wanted was to find an empty spot on the room full of food and dig in until he was sick. But the buzzing wouldn't stop; once, and twice, and three times and again, annoying his every fibre and making Stiles angry; but then everything around him started fading, disappearing into some sort of nothingness that made him become completely aware of the buzzing on the table by his bed. Only, when his hand automatically reached to the _right _in search of his night table, all Stiles found was empty air. He frowned; could his dad possibly have moved the night table?

His face rested against the pillow, and that was exactly when he became aware of the very floral scent on it. _Wait... floral? _He wondered; his bed didn't smell like flowers; it smelt like sweat and farts as far as he knew. _What the fuck? _That was when his eyes shot open, and he found himself surprised at seeing the lilac shade on the sheets. _This is definitely not my bed. _He thought, frowning.

His head lifted, searching around for the place where the buzzing had just resumed after a pause Stiles had been too distracted to notice; and once his head lifted, everything came back to him in the form of a headache. His eyes closed again, and he moved his hand until he'd found the cellphone he'd left on the little table by Lydia Martin's bed prior to automatically swiping his finger to the right to answer the call. "Yeah?" He answered in a sleepy tone, frowning once again and letting out a sigh while his free hand lifted to attempt to rub his eyes.

On the other side of the line Stiles' dad was talking fast, and making the headache that had him remembering the events of the previous night even worse. "Dad!" He called. "Dad, I'm fine." The sheriff breathed, not wasting any second before he asked him where he was and why he hadn't called. _Because I was drunk, mainly? _Stiles thought, but obviously replied differently. "I'm with Lydia." He admitted, though his eyes could not find her anywhere in the room. "I kind of spent the night with her."

Obviously he was still half asleep, or Stiles might have remembered to make his words sound a little bit more innocent; something he only realised when his dad had only replied with a simple "Oh." From his side of the line.

Stiles couldn't help it, a sleepy chuckle escaped his lips and his eyes finally opened again. "Not like that, don't worry." He stated. "I fell asleep, that's all." Pause. "_Fully _clothed." Was he blushing? Probably. He felt embarrassed even though, as he'd realised moments prior after looking around Lydia's bedroom, he was alone. This time the short laugh was nervous. "Yes, Dad! Don't worry." A short _pffft _sound escaped his smiling lips when the Sheriff asked him if he was sure. And thankfully, his answer seemed to have been either true enough or embarrassed enough for his dad to move on and ask him when he was heading home. "Soon...?" The word came out as a question, and that had been enough for the Sheriff to know Stiles wasn't exactly sure.

"Just call me when you do, okay?" He said, and knowing his dad, the frustration Stiles heard wasn't only in his imagination.

"I will." He stated. "Sorry for not calling last night."

The Sheriff grumbled something about being careful, and to stay out of the woods because there'd been an animal attack; and though Stiles had been about to reply interestedly to such a statement, the man knew his son too well to interrupt him before any word had even left his lips. "Don't even think about it." He stated. "You're staying out of this one." Stiles frowned; even though he knew his dad knew about the supernatural now, all he could hear was the clear hope that it didn't have anything to do with it; and in all honestly, suddenly so was Stiles. Regardless, he would tell Scott about it just in case. "Stay with Lydia, tell her I said hi." The Sheriff said.

Stiles sighed. "I will." He promised, his free hand lifting and rubbing against his face once more; and with a quick goodbye from both Stilinski's, Stiles hung up. And there, with his eyes open and his frame sitting on Lydia's bed, Stiles realised that the smell surrounding him was more than just the strawberry blonde's perfume and Glade scent, but the delicious smell of food. He froze for a moment, because not only was he in Lydia's room, _in _her bed, but... _is the _cooking_?!_

The smell of food grew stronger after a few moments of stillness, and Stiles realised that other than the buzzing from his phone, the smell had been the thing to wake him up. Just like in his dream, the room, and he guessed the entire house, smelt like bacon and pancakes; such things that made his mouth water and his system to shake even more awake. Both his hands lifted and rubbed against his face before he dared to move; slowly, as to not bother his headache, Stiles stood from the bed and stretched, actually surprised to hear his back crack with the motion.

A surprised expression crossed his features prior to a scoffed breath, and then he was just standing there, looking around Lydia's room and wondering what he should do. Should he wait there? Should he go downstairs? His hands rested on his hips, and all he did was look around the fancy and girly settings of Lydia's room. They finished in a landing on the now empty bed; and for a reason he wasn't entirely sure of, Stiles felt himself blushing. So, to distract whatever thought about Lydia that had formed in his mind, the amber eyed boy forced himself to move in order to make her bed.

Was that weird? Probably, but at least he felt helpful and wasn't just standing in the middle of her room like a complete idiot. After a while, though, the words, _What am I doing? _Repeated inside his mind like a mental chant as he moved around Lydia's bed raising and stretching sheets, or fluffing pillows (he was fluffing Lydia's pillows, for fuck's sakes), because he felt silly doing what he was doing. He liked it, and _that _was exactly why it made him feel weird. And what made it worse was that he was in the middle of fluffing one of the lilac-covered pillows when Lydia's voice reached him from the doorway. "Stiles?"

It was enough for the boy to drop the pillow in his hands rather clumsily and quickly attempted to pick it up again so he could set it on its proper place. "Heeeeey." He greeted Lydia with a grin and eyes attempting to not widen, because Lydia was standing in the doorway with slippers on and a white short fluffy robe adorning her frame, locks damp falling at her sides; so, of course, Stiles' mind went to wild places.

Lydia wouldn't admit it, but she had found the calling out of Stiles' name as a probable mistake, because then she wouldn't have been able to watch him fluff her pillows, which was a rather amusing thing to watch; or, well, the way he'd dropped it had been a little more amusing to see. "Want some breakfast?"Tilting her head to the side as she aimed a smiled toward him, Lydia walked to place one plate full of food on her desk; her tone was cheery, the steps she took were a little hesitant due to the fact that she was in nothing but her robe; not that she had any problems with being nude, but she was in front of Stiles, and she didn't want to make things between the two weird, or... weirder.

So she held out the other plate toward him while continuing to smile at him; maybe the food would serve as good distraction, and while he ate she could go get properly dressed prior to joining him for breakfast. "That looks delicious." He stated, attempting to force himself to not get excited over the fact that Lydia Martin had cooked for both of them, because he was a hundred percent sober now, and the relaxation the alcohol might have provided him with the day prior was completely gone. Yet his eyes met hers and the smile widened shortly as his frame moved to take the offered plate from her hands.

"You said that about my sandwich too, Stiles." She stated, turning her head an inch and looking at him through her lashes.

Stiles' eyes lowered to the plate in his hands for a few moments, noticing how absolutely dream like the food in it looked, because it was _exactly _what he'd seen in his dream: pancakes, bacon, eggs, sausages. _YUM. _He allowed a short scoffed breath to escape his lips before his eyes lifted in Lydia's direction once again. "IIIII am aware of that, yes." He chuckled softly, lifting one hand to scratch the back of his head before making himself hold the plate with both hands again. "Maybe I just think all the food you make looks delicious." He stated. "And, I mean, can you blame me? Look at this." His hands lifted the plate shortly, displaying it for Lydia. "It looks like it came out of a fancy restaurant commercial." He was babbling, definitely, and he needed to stop or Lydia would think he was more nervous than he actually was. _Breathe, Stiles. _He thought for himself, _This is Lydia, she is your _friend. A couple of silent beats passed and all he could do after was take a breath and speak one more thing in Lydia's direction. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Lydia smiled, raising a brow. "Sleep well?" Maybe she was in such a good mood because she'd been able to sleep properly with no interruption or nightmare, or little banshee walking adventure during the night; there was no tension in her limbs, in fact, the only painful thing was her head, but that could easily be dealt with later. "How do you feel? I didn't wake you, did I?"

Stiles blinked, clearing his throat once and lowering his hands to stomach level while looking at the food in it. "Yeah, I'm great." He admitted, looking up again as his mouth watered. "All I've got left from yesterday is a headache, I'll live." A nervous laugh escaped him, because the headache wasn't the only thing left; he had the memories of everything Lydia had told him the day prior printed like a bright neon sign inside his head. "And, by the way, no, you didn't wake me." He shook his head. "My dad did." He paused, remembering the Sheriff's words about the animal attack and... "He says hi."

Such a comment made Lydia start wondering if Stiles ate a home-cooked mean that often, since his dad was so busy at work, or the fact that he wasn't the best of cooks, not that she could blame him, he really didn't have much time, especially with the rising in supernatural occurrences due to the Nemeton's resurgence and so on. "Eat." She encouraged. "Maybe it'll help with the headache, and if you need a drink then let me know." Her head nodded in the direction of the plate in Stiles' hands before raising a brow. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble." She truthfully stated. "When you see your dad, let him know that I said hi back."

"Thank you." Stiles nodded in her direction, with the ever present smile across his lips as he started side-eyeing the chair in which he'd sat the night prior to eat, and then at his plate again. He had to force his eyes to not stay on her for _too_ long, because if he did, then his imagination would shoot up once again and Stiles would be able to imagine what Lydia wore under the fuzzy white robe or hers, and it wasn't a good idea; not when he already sort of knew what she looked like naked. Instead, he decided to clear his throat and speak again. "You didn't get me in trouble; I did text him yesterday that I was here, I just..." A scoffed breath left his smiling lips. "...I kind of failed to mention I was staying." For a moment all Stiles could do was smile at her, but then he finally decided to finish his thought. "I mean, I think I texted him _before _you asked me to stay, not after, so that could be why."

And suddenly Stiles realised why he was suddenly so nervous around Lydia again; because the things she'd told him the night before were the most vivid part of his memories, and the only way his brain knew how to process them without bringing Lydia's drunken words up was to wonder the big continuing question of _NOW WHAT?! _Up. "Oh, good." It was a nervousness that Lydia did not miss; it made _her _aware of the memories that had beat against her brain from the moment she woke up, and it made her eyes glance toward the bathroom door, then turned to walk over to it to change into some proper clothing so that she wasn't basically naked in front of her _friend; _not that she hadn't been nude in front of, not only Stiles, but a whole crew of people. That had been different, though, this time it was solely the two of them, and if she was not mistaken, it felt as if some sort of tension was beginning to manifest again. "I'll be back." She said, suddenly feeling glad at the reminder than she had been the one to ask Stiles to stay; of course it had been, otherwise she'd be alone in her room. Should she be thanking Stiles for staying and not judging her for her actions? Or should she just brush it off? It was embarrassing enough that she even _needed_ or wanted a person to stay with her in such a manner, for what? Because she felt lonely? She was never lonely, and she could have had _anyone _over with her, yet it had been one of the closest male friends she had. It was Stiles; Stiles with his warm honey eyes and his adorable smile and his unflinching love and loyalty to those who were fortunate enough to receive it. "I'm going to change." She simply announced.

Stiles watched as Lydia attempted to hide her face in a manner he rarely saw on her— with her damp hair; the strides in the direction of her washroom were quick, and the closing of its door echoed like a gunshot in both friends' ears. "Okay." He told the closed door with a nod and a smile. It was such a moment that Stiles begun wondering what exactly had suddenly made his heart beat more nervously than before. His eyes fell to the plate of food in his hands and a short sigh escaped his lips; mostly because he couldn't exactly believe the situation he found himself in; and then they lifted to look in the direction of the half made bed.

He sighed again.

His hands moved to set the plate of food on the desk before he moved to finish making Lydia's bed, because apparently he couldn't leave something he'd started unfinished. Moments later, and only once he was done with _that, _did Stiles allow himself to head toward the desk where his price, in the form of a plate full of delicious looking food made by Lydia, rested; all while he wondered if she'd eat with him, or how long she'd want him to stay. Or worse, how much of the night prior did she remember and/or if she even would ever want to talk about it.

The moment Lydia had gotten into the washroom her hand raked through her hair while an exasperated sigh left her lips; she was glad that Stiles was human, glad that he couldn't hear the sound of her heart beating against her chest, or the frustrated movements she was making, otherwise she would have to explain herself. Not that she wouldn't have to already; she _was _acting off and out of character, but she wasn't used to that feeling, not since Jackson, anyway, and that had not at all ended that well. However, Stiles and Lydia were friends; good friends, in fact, so she didn't want to ruin what they had, or feel the pain she'd attempted to distract herself from during all of last year. She was _afraid. _

The night before may have been a bit of a blur in that moment, but she remembered what she'd said, she remembered most of it, and it seemed that her honestly caused Stiles to feel nervous once again; a nervousness that had subsided due to their friendship blossoming quite unexpectedly. And as Lydia got dressed, she found herself unable to stop thinking about such a fact, about what she'd confessed through drunken lips, about the way her views of the spastic boy outside her bathroom door had changed with time, and above all, what she was at all willing to do about such facts.

Meanwhile, of course, Stiles' mind, as much as hers, was reeling; regardless of if he'd sat down to nibble at his food or basically stared holes into Lydia's bedroom walls without exactly paying much attention to what he was doing. Because all he could hear over and over again inside his head were Lydia's words from the night before; sure, he couldn't remember _every _word of the monologue she'd spoken while laying on the grass, he'd have alcohol to blame for that horrible fact, but he could remember _most _of it; or the way Lydia had looked when she'd asked him to stay, the way she had so easily ignored her own pillow to rest her head against his chest without moving her hand away from his when he'd rested it atop hers. He knew they were friends, but everything she'd told him... well, it sparked something else inside him; something he may have almost given up on due to the growing friendship between them, with which he was becoming accustomed to the idea of having as the highest level of relationship with her.

She spoke those words the night before, and a hope that had gotten partly ignited with the congratulatory 'friend' date of a couple of weeks back, burnt like fire inside his stomach. "So, want to come down with me to get coffee?" She spoke from behind him, shortly after the creaking of the bathroom's door opening.

And at that moment, well, it wasn't without a certain kind of boldness and clumsiness, that as soon as her dulcet tones broke him free of his reverie, he stood from the chair and looked directly in Lydia's direction before swiftly speaking. "Lydia, go out with me." He said, his heart beating nearly out of its cavity while his eyes looked straight into hers, watching as her eyes widened and her whole frame froze steps away from her bathroom door. "And I mean a _real _date, not a celebratory friend date like last time." Stiles knew that he probably should have stopped himself, but he knew by the burning inside his veins, the way his heart beat as if he'd just ran a marathon, the way his breath got caught in his throat, that for whatever short span of time he had enough guts to speak his mind fully and honestly, and he wasn't about to stop himself. Not after the words Lydia had confided him with, whether drunk or not; so he spoke again, before her slowly parting lips could even form a word. "And I _know _your first reaction will be to say no, because maybe you're scared of liking me or something, I don't know. But you _can't _tell me you don't feel something happening here, alright? Not after what we've been through, or after we kissed, or after _last night._" His hands were flailing as an unconscious emphasis to his honest words; words that left Lydia's frozen frame as such, her eyes watching his every movement as he spoke. "Lydia, I'm _me._" He stated, taking a step closer to her. "I'm your friend, and you _know _me, for God's sake. You know the last thing I would do in my_ life_ is to hurt you."

The words were there, floating in the air between their suddenly silent frames; it hadn't been something Lydia had fully expected, especially with the memory of the night before somewhat foggy, and her head throbbing in time to the sound of her heartbeats. "So, go out with me." For a couple of blinks of her eyes she stared at Stiles, not knowing what to do; she couldn't say a word as her brain mulled over what had been said to her, it made her make a face at the floor. It wasn't that she was going over what she was going to say, whether yes or no, to Stiles' request; it simply was just that he seemed to know exactly how she felt, it was like he knew every thought that she'd had about the situation; it both scared her and made her extremely nervous.

She couldn't ignore it any longer, though, it wouldn't be right to play with him in such a way, mostly for the fact that she had realised he was not like the other guys she'd temporarily been with; they'd all been superficial, a distraction. Was she actually thinking everything enough to actually accept what he'd asked of her? Would she be able to pull off a date? _When was the last time I went on a real date? _She wondered, because she couldn't even remember that. And Stiles knew her well enough to elaborate on the going out part, because he most likely knew that she could easily brush of the date as a friend thing and pretend everything was normal right after. She wanted to say yes, but she also wanted to say no; she simply couldn't decide on it because she was still afraid.

However... the things Stiles had spoken rang true; he was right, she couldn't pretend any longer, since she was so good at it, because at the end of the day it was exhausting, she didn't want that anymore, she wanted something real. Something she could be sure of, something she didn't have to wear a mask for every single day. "I still want coffee." She finally replied after a silence much shorter than it felt, and a smile adorned her lips. Her gaze rose to look at her friend, her hand went through her hair while her lips pressed together for a few seconds of watching a frozen Stiles before she turned to look at her reflection in the mirror; her hand instantly went out to reach for her beauty products so that she could at _least _look somewhat presentable to the outside world. Her hair was an unruly mane of strawberry blonde locks, and her face was bare of any make-up. The only acceptable thing was her outfit; a lime green silk dress with a black belt right at her waist. "Guess I better do my hair, then."

For a few moments all Stiles could do was blink; once, and twice, and then three times, because his ears were ringing with the simplicity of Lydia's words. Because she hadn't said no; in fact, the way she was acting sounded and seemed like a very loud _yes. _And he nearly couldn't believe it. It was as if most of him had been expecting her to look at her with sad pity-filled eyes and tell him she couldn't, but she hadn't done that. And if he hadn't been still standing somewhat frozen in the middle of her room, Stiles would have probably believed that his heart had stopped.

But then his lips closed once his tongue had wet them in short nervousness, and his whole frame shifted forward as a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding, finally escaped his lips. Lydia stood before the mirror by the time that happened, and with the still half disbelieving features moving almost confidently, he stood behind her; the few inches of height he had on her made him able to look right into her eyes on the reflection as his head shook. A momentarily confident hand lifted, and with gentle grazes, he allowed his fingertips to brush the skin from her neck to the part where her shoulder became her back, pushing her strawberry blonde locks back, along with the motion. "Lydia..." He started, making sure her eyes had met his, which they had, she was frozen again, her hand halfway raised with a make-up brush nearly touching her skin. "You don't need any of that." He said, eyes honest on the mirror of hers. "You look beautiful as you are right now."

No matter how many times Stiles spoke those words to her when she felt the most vulnerable, it never failed to make her feel surprised; it did bring about a smile on her face, while her gaze lowered to look away from the reflection in the mirror. Maybe it was because she felt as if she were blushing, or that her face was twisted in an expression that conveyed she wasn't a hundred percent sure about the truth in Stiles' words, and she didn't like that face. She knew she was the hot girl at school; however, the word beautiful wasn't usually occupied to describe Lydia Martin.

At least not by anyone other than Stiles and her best friend, Allison. And it so happened, that when Stiles used such a word for her, it was exactly when she failed to feel up to par with her hot-girl status. It always left an impression on her. "Thanks, Stiles."

Elevating her gaze to look at him again, a genuine smile curved up her lips, while she reached to at least grab her lip balm. Maybe she'd suddenly decided to leave her make-up to foundation only, but her lip balm was not something she could leave behind; who knew when her lips could get dry?

So, after putting the light colour on, she turned around to face Stiles, attempting to not lean to much toward him whilst her eyes looked up into his own. "We finish breakfast and go?" She had said yes to a date, so she'd keep her word.

_Date. _She smiled. _Wow. _One thing she never thought possible: that she was about to go on an actual date with Stiles Stilinski. The best part of the whole thing was that she knew she was serious about it, too. She was glad.

She wasn't just humouring him.

**To Be Continued.**


	5. Chapter 5: I'm Driving!

This was the moment everything downed on Stiles: He was taking a shower quite hurriedly so that he could get ready as quickly as he could and change so Lydia and him could go on their first official date_. _A _date. _Not a friend date, not a study date, nor any other sort of date, edible or otherwise that wasn't anything more than an actual, official, and hopefully perfect supposed-to-be-romantic real _date. _

All the words Lydia had told him the night prior, the ones Stiles could remember, anyway, the way her hand had been in his, the way her head had rested on his shoulder, the way Lydia had _asked _him to stay the night, the way he'd slept in her bed with his arms wrapped around her; even Stiles' outburst a few hours ago that had even landed him the date he was getting ready for... all of it replayed in his mind during their trip to his house, because most of him still couldn't believe it. It was as if it had all happened too fast for him to even process it, and just then, with the time to actually _think, _he actually realised and truly acknowledged everything that had happened.

From getting drunk in attempts of getting Lydia out of his mind, to sitting in her car on the way to his home so he could take a shower and change from the clothes of the day prior so they could go on their first date. It was fast, it was unbelievable, but it all only made him smile the whole way there. And that hope? The hope Lydia had ignited in more ways than one? That hope didn't dare burn out at all. It was such a hope that had the boy smiling at his reflection while blowdrying his hair moments later. He _was_ paying attention to what he was doing, which was the important part, but there was a smile on his lips all throughout, which was not something that usually happened when he fixed his hair in the mornings.

It was Lydia, obviously. The nerves, the excitement, the disbelief, all mixed into a tornado of emotions he only seemed able to express with a smile. And ten minutes later, after a little spray and moulding of his fingers, his hair was done in its usual style, he'd put on deodorant _and _sprayed on some cologne. Not much, of course, as it was he never wore too much; one, or two sprays at most, but not more. And so he was ready.

Physically, at least; he was as mentally ready as he could be, but he exited the bathroom at last and smiled in Lydia's direction, who lay on his bed with her eyes staring at the ceiling. "Done. I'm ready." He announced, reaching for his black jacket and his wallet; and he could only hope he looked as good as he felt, because, well, he was nervous.

Lydia's frame rose halfway on the bed, a young smile adorning her lips. "Hey, wait." She said; the moment her eyes landed on Stiles she noticed something, and before she could even stop herself, she was getting off the bed and walking in Stiles' direction, while her hands reached out to fix the collar of his plaid button-down shirt. Once that was done, her palms smoothed over the fabric covering his torso while her lips curved up into a smile. "There." She stated. "Now we can go." And as she realised her close position to Stiles, Lydia's head slightly tilted to the side while her lips pursed together and her brows knit together. _Huh_, she thought, _Stiles smells good. _And she was noticing it.

She covered up her realisation with another smile that made the amber eyed boy's orbs widen with absolute surprise; and he couldn't help the half-amused half-confused scoffed breath that escaped his lips. _What? _He remained frozen for a moment, because he was just surprised and was trying to remember if Lydia had ever done that before, but... _I think I would remember._ "Thank you." He heard himself saying with the same partly bewildered, partly amused expression; and only then did he realise that she had moved, so he did too, allowing her to exit his room before he did, and trying to not think too much about it while they both went down the stairs.

And then it was automatic, really, but Stiles slipped on his black jacket, and as him and Lydia were on their way to the front door, Stiles reached for the keys of his Jeep on the key-holder near the door; only to be stopped by one of Lydia's dainty hands against his chest. "What are you doing?" She asked with her eyes partly narrowed at him, while she gazed at him incredulously, raising her brows as her eyes moved from his to the hand that had frozen on their way to leaving his keys inside his pocket.

"Getting my car keys." He stated, frame completely frozen in the exact same position it had been like when Lydia's hand had stopped his steps and his eyes wondering for a couple of seconds to see if there was anything out of the ordinary in the room. When he saw there wasn't, he looked in Lydia's direction once again, only three or four seconds after his first words. "What are _you_ doing?" He asked with a short narrow of his eyes, still unmoving, still watching Lydia intently as he wondered if he'd accidentally done something wrong, or if she meant the question a little more metaphorically in that exactly moment.

For a beat all Lydia could do was stare at Stiles with the same expression she had taken moments prior; _Does he really think he is driving the Jeep? _She wondered; she did have a soft spot for it, but if she was sure of anything it was that they were _not _going to be driving it that day. "Oh, honey, no." She nearly chanted, shaking her head in his direction and giving him a smile before patting his chest and turning around so her journey to the outside would continue. She didn't know if Stiles would mind it, if they drove her car; she did know how used to driving his Jeep he was, though, always driving around, picking people up as well as dropping them off. He did it for her plenty of times; however it was time that things had changed. This time, Lydia Martin decided she'd be the one driving the boy around.

"What?" He asked, the keys falling in his pocket once his frame unfroze before quickly moving in order to follow Lydia outside. His hands automatically closed the front door as he left, but his eyes never left the strawberry blonde's movements. "Lydia!" He called swiftly, taking his house keys out so he could quickly and clumsily lock the door; clumsily because he was suddenly frustrated that he couldn't move quicker. "Lydia, wait!" He exclaimed, and once the lock had clicked, he stumbled to a turn so he could run in the direction she had moved toward. "What are you doing?!" He asked, steps pushing him forward with just one destination. "I'm driving!" His hand lifted and pointed with the keys in his hand toward the parked blue Jeep behind him, his eyes set on her as she stood with her hand on her car's driver seat door.

The expression crossing his face expressed as much surprise as disappointment; because it was their first date, and in all the amount of times he'd imagined a first date with Lydia Martin, the image of him had been driving that blue Jeep with her sitting on the passenger seat. It was such an expression that, with her hand about to open the door, Lydia almost gave in to the decision that maybe he should allow Stiles to drive his Jeep due to the fact that he really did seem to want to drive it; but with a momentary press of her lips, Lydia squared her shoulders then turned her gaze in Stiles' direction once again and looked up with a softened expression. "Look, you always drive people around. Let me do this one thing for you this time. I want to drive you, okay? So get in before I change my mind." That wasn't going to happen; however, saying it cemented things a little more, because she was not going to go soft just because of Stiles. He was not going to make her melt with his big brown eyes and little pursed downward smile. For good measure, though, Lydia stared at the amber eyed boy one last time before turning away and opening the driver's door of her car, getting in, with hopes that Stiles would follow without complaint, and closing the door once again. He was simply not going to drive his Jeep that night, maybe on the next date. If there was a next date.

Stiles' hand fell at his side, and his whole frame just sort of partly deflated and partly froze. Not because the image from all his date fantasies with Lydia was bursting like a bubble, but because of what she'd told him. It wasn't as if he'd ever complained or noticed the fact that he was always the one driving people around, but the realisation came welcome. For a moment all he could do was stare at Lydia's movements while she moved victoriously into her own car, a few of her strawberry blonde locks dancing with the wind the action of swinging the door open made, or the way her eyes just sort of sparkled once she was inside; because it _was _a nice gesture, it seemed genuine, and coming from Lydia, it meant an incredible deal.

In fact, Stiles couldn't even remember the last time that she had so honestly and openly stated her wishes to be kind to someone, not the way she had just then. And he was processing the whole thing in his mind; all of it, and it made his hand burry his keys in his pocket, yet not let them go, because, suddenly, he was leaning down to look inside Lydia's open window with his free hand resting on the top of the car, while all he could say was: "But, Lydia..."

"Stiles..." Lydia's eyes closed as his name left in an exasperated tone. If things continued down the path they seemed to be going in, then she would have to use other ways of getting the boy to comply; but she could be smart, she could use her brain rather than her other swaying methods. So she did; elevating her gaze in order to look up at the top of the car, and then lowering green hues to meet his ambers, her lips pursed together once more and her eyes rolled. "Look, you'd want to drive me home, and there's no way I'm leaving my car at your place, alright?" She stated, eyes nearly pleading to his own with feigned concern. "I might need it to go shopping with Allison." _Or do errands for my mother._ She thought, remembering the few times when she'd gotten one of her infamous headaches, or in any other sort of errand that her mother asked her to. Adverting her face, her mouth formed a straight line as her fingers tapped against the steering wheel. "Please." She tried for a less matter-of-fact tone, and just spoke to the boy in dulcet tones, hoping that he would give in.

Stiles' eyes looked directly in Lydia's direction inside the car and then turned to see the reflection of his Jeep on the window of the back seat of her car. He would be silly not to admit that she had a point; whether it was for shopping or not, Lydia could need her car, and she was right, he would _definitely _would want to take her home. Of course, the ever-figuring-difficult-situations-out Stiles could argue that he could drive her car back to her the very next day; but then the expression on the strawberry blonde's face once he turned back around to see her, accompanied by her single worded _please _were enough to make him want to sigh, tap the material of her car a couple of times with his thumb and nod. "Alright, _fine._" He said, and without allowing himself to think twice about it, he opened the passenger seat's side and got in; sighing shortly, regardless of if he closed the door as gently as before, and slid the seat belt against his chest. Smiling at Lydia once again.

A smile to mirror his lit up her features when he finally agreed to her request; it felt nice to be doing something for someone else rather than always doing everything for herself; not that doing stuff for herself wasn't good, but Stiles was always doing kind deeds for the rest of his friends, so doing something for _him _is what she felt right about. "You can drive next time." Aiming her grin in his direction, she made sure everything in the car was secure before driving away from his house with the thoughts of what they were both going to do dancing in her head; was he simple? Would he want to do something traditional, or would he be creative?

The one thing that truly stood out to Lydia about the whole thing was getting to know her friend on a different level. She knew him as a person who had a crush on her, then she knew him as her friend, and now she was going to learn how the spastic amber eyed boy would express himself romantically. So many questions were forming in her head, but she was going to let his actions answer them all for her; but she'd been so distracted, that she didn't pay much thought to the fact that she had spoken about a 'next time'. It was the one thing Stiles had not been able to not pay attention to. "Where to?" She asked, but the words _next time _echoed in his mind, and he couldn't even attempt to hide the smile that they brought him.

It could probably be just a simple smile for which reason only _he _was aware of, but it was there, and a clear of his throat was the only thing that allowed him to be able to speak. "Uh... a store." Did Lydia want there to be a next time? Or was she just stating such words to satiate him? He couldn't stop thinking about it, due to the fact that, _technically_ his date with Lydia was just about to officially start. And Lydia had already spoken about another one. _A real date. _To say that he was happy and excited were very big understatements.

All Lydia did was nod in affirmation while she continued driving; if Stiles wanted to stop at a store, then they were going to go to a store. Perhaps he wanted to get something for himself before they actually went wherever it was they were going for their date... except for the fact that she wasn't exactly sure which kind of store he even wanted to go to. "Be more specific, Stiles." She requested. "I'm not psychic, remember?" She only gave a quick glance to her friend before giving her full attention to the road. The smallest of smiles formed on her lips due to the way he was sitting; and that's when she realised that the whole thing must be very new to him: being the passenger rather than the driver.

After blinking a few times and shifting on his seat again, he turned to look in her direction and shook his head for a short second. "Right, sorry." He said with a light chuckle. It was kind of amusing to her, but at the same time, Lydia wondered if he needed something to keep himself busy, because he usually was bouncing his knee, or doing something with his hands or even shifting around on his seat the way he was doing at that very moment. Then he cleared his throat, though, and lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck as he began wondering how to make a plain grocery store sound better than just _that. _But that's exactly what it was, and he couldn't make it sound fancier even if he tried. "A grocery store?" It sounded like a question, and he began wondering if the nerves he suddenly became aware of again were at all audible. "Even a convenience store would work." He admitted. "Either or." Only then did his hand lower and his eyes focused on the road before him.

"You can put some music on if you'd like." Lydia suddenly told him, making his eyes meet her features with short wonder; a motion that made the strawberry blonde rest her eyes on him and attempt an equally reassuring and encouraging smile while nodding toward her radio.

"No, I'm..." He allowed his hands to rest laced on his lap, the pads of his thumbs patting each other as his head shook with a little thankful smile. "I'm good, you pick the music."

A short scoffed breath escaped Lydia's lips while her eyes returned to the road. Now that she knew where he wanted to go she could worry about planning the route in her head; however it seemed as if she had to pick either one place or another. Clearly food was involved, or it could be solely _snacks._ What if a whole meal was involved? If so, then a grocery store would be best; but if snacks were needed then a convenience store would be best. She realised going to the grocery store was probably the better option, because there he could get both things in one place, so that's where she decided to go.

And she wasn't stupid; by now most people knew that, but she _was _curious; it seemed that her amber eyed friend _did _have something planned out for them. Something thought out well enough to require him requesting a grocery store. And she wanted clues as to what that plan was. "We're going on a date to the grocery store?" She wondered, not even surprised at the shocked and estranged kind of look that crossed Stiles' features.

"No, of course not." He quickly said with a short narrow of his eyes and the lightest laughter escaping his lips. Stiles, more than anyone, was highly aware of Lydia's intelligence, thus, he knew what she wanted to know. Playing coy was her way to get information out of him, but he was not going to give in to _that; _so, he went along with her question as if it had not been strange at all. "We're going to buy stuff, and _then _go to our date." His fingers moved as if to emphasise the words. It was then that Lydia Martin realised he didn't want to give too much away.

Well, Stiles Stilinski had asked for weirder things. "Alright." She said, a shoulder lifting in a mindless shrug. "Store it is."

**To Be continued.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Date

He'd done what had been needed, and at that very moment he simply placed the bags in the trunk of Lydia's car before he moved quickly until he'd sat on the passenger seat; he smiled at her like he was the most innocent guy in the world and denied her any details she attempted to press from him for a couple of seconds before she let the matter go with a shrug and a roll of her eyes. Of course, the smile on his lips remained victorious for a moment, but then the two were driving down the road and away from the grocery store.

She asked for directions, and he gave them to her, but the amber eyed boy simply refused to tell her _exactly _their final destination; "Take this road, take that road, turn left, keep going straight, find a place to park the car because we have to walk from here."He directed her, and it was all very funny due to Lydia Martin's sometimes frustrated expressions, but Stiles had known that, unless she suddenly told him she was going back home if he didn't tell her where they were going, then he was not going to give anything away until they had actually arrived.

He didn't know how much time passed during the drive and their wondering into the woods somewhat far away from town – knowingly ignoring the warning that his father had heavily expressed in the phone that very morning over avoiding the woods, and deciding to keep an open eye for danger just in case –, but he was carrying the bags; refusing to let the strawberry blonde help regardless of the times she asked to, only so she wouldn't look inside them and everything remained a secret until _after _he'd set up; regardless of if the outline of the box that held the cake he'd spent ten minutes choosing was absolutely evident in one of the plastic bags.

The sun wasn't too high up in the sky anymore; in fact, in probably an hour or so, the two would be able to see the sunset. Something that Stiles would probably refuse to have planned if the girl asked him. "Just a little bit further, I swear." He told Lydia after hearing her sigh once again.

She knew it; the more nervous she felt the more frustrated that she seemed to become with Stiles; not only that, but her curiosity continued rising as they walked on their journey to what she hoped would be their final stop. The truth was that Lydia wanted to know the plan from the moment she had even realised there was one, much more so at that moment than a few minutes prior; on the other hand, some part of her still wanted it to be a surprise in order to keep her friend content and be able to have a genuine reaction. Because God knew that if she knew things beforehand then she could rehearse upon her reaction, or end up planning the whole date herself so that every single detail was perfect. And wouldn't _that _ruin everything? "You promise and swear a lot, Stiles." She said, glancing over at the boy in front of her and away from her surroundings with a slight quirk of her lips and her arms crossed under her chest. "You should stop worrying, or you might stumble." Lacing her words with teasing tones, her amusement shone upon her gaze, and she busied herself with the task of watching Stiles walking more closely than usual, for if she did such a thing, then it would distract her from the burning desire to pry the secrets out of her friend.

Stiles might have blushed at her words; not because they weren't true, but because they _were._ The whole possibility of having Lydia become impatient or something of the sort had the boy be wary of making her wait too long, because the situation was unexpected as it was, and having to add waiting didn't seem like such a good idea in his books. But he didn't respond; instead, he simply walked alongside her with a grin across his lips, and when, a couple of minutes later, he finally saw the break in the trees that he'd been searching for, he smiled in Lydia's direction and stumbled a bit until he was standing right in front of her; an action that made the strawberry blonde's brows lift in little surprise. "Okay, I know there's been a lot of waiting today," Stiles almost nervously stated. "But I need you to close your eyes and stay here for five minutes." He nodded. "Can you do that?" His eyes searched hers, which searched his in return for any other sort of reasoning behind his words; she could see nothing but the nerves she had grown to recognise quite easily upon his features. "Please?" He said.

Finally Lydia nodded her head while gifting him with a small smile. One thing she had learnt over the course of their relationship was how much they seemed to trust one another, how they always seemed to lean on each other, or placed their lives upon the other's hands. Trust; it was why such a request, though strange, didn't shake Lydia in the slightest. "Okay." She said, doing as the boy requested and closing her eyes; focusing on the sound of the breath that escaped his lips and the light echo his sneaker clad feet made upon the fallen leaves in attempts to be able to come up with a theory about what he was actually doing while she waited.

Stiles ended up on the overlooking rock where every light in Beacon Hills was visible. It was a place he'd go to whenever he wished to be alone; one that, even though the pack knew about it, none of them suspected him of spending his time in every time, though rare, he needed to be absolutely and completely alone. And there, with a smile on his face, Stiles managed to kneel and set the bags he carried on the ground; and in less time that he even thought possible, he started fishing things out of the bags. First the blanket, of course, completely new and broken free from its crossed carton holders, and laid flat on the ground, followed by the food set in a way in which both he and Lydia could sit comfortably and not far away from one another. And to finish off, the cake; set right in the middle of the whole setting.

Stiles' heart beat as if he'd just ran a marathon, and it wasn't the moving he'd done to set everything up that had caused it; it was the nerves. Nerves that, as he stood with his hands on his hips to see the full picture of the set out picnic, made him feel like there was some sort of cold liquid running though all of his being, because everything was set, and now it was time to get Lydia. "You can do this, Stiles." He encouraged himself in a whisper as his hands lifted to rub against his face shortly. "The hardest part was getting her to say yes." Of course, he didn't know if such a thing was true, but it's what he'd decided to tell himself so he could lower the nerves along with his hands as he finally turned around in search of his friend.

When he reached her and saw that, not only was she still there, but her eyes remained closed, Stiles smiled, and a wave of tranquillity ran through his being; all he could do next was take the couple of steps that would take him close to the strawberry blonde prior to lifting one of his hands to capture one of hers. "Lydia?" His tone came calm, volume only a couple of tones higher than a whisper as he searched her features.

"Hm?" She wasn't startled over the sound of her name. Even though she had been aware of the emptiness around her, the moment he'd started walking in her direction she'd felt it. She always felt him around, as if she were more in-tuned to the spastic boy then she'd realised. But now that he was there, the need to open her eyes came stronger.

"No, no!" He said, waving a hand in front of her face as if she were seeing it, nearly rolling his eyes at the motion. "No, keep your eyes closed, please." He requested somewhat nervously, smiling at the way her eyes suddenly squeezed shut and a smile of her own lifted the corners of her lips. "I'm going to lead you for a bit," he said, "but keep your eyes closed, okay?"

Her hand encased his, while her other one moved to grip the fabric of Stiles' jacket in order to keep herself steady. "Okay." She agreed before taking an inhale of breath, then slowly exhaled. She allowed herself to lean against her friend's frame, giving him her complete trust.

It was something Stiles did not go unaware about; in fact, because of that sole motion he stood in place for no longer than a few seconds as he realised what was happening: the way Lydia had trusted her enough to wait in the middle of the woods with her eyes closed, the way she simply held onto him before he dared take a step in order to lead the way in the manner he said he would. It made his heart beat even faster, but not with nerves, with outmost realisation and maybe even tranquillity.

Even so, as Lydia and Stiles walked with his every move being a whole lot more cautious, as to make sure every step the girl took forward was a safe one, and a wave of wind hit their faces as a welcome the moment they both reached the spot where everything had been set, they both smiled; no trees, no grass, no nothing but the overlooking view of an electrically lit up Beacon Hills as the sun seemed well on its way to setting. It was something, yet all he could do at that moment was ignore _that _view to look at an even more beautiful one in his opinion: Lydia Martin. "Okay," he took a breath. "You can open them now." He said, keeping her hand in his and his eyes on her so that he could be witness to every single one of her expressions.

Opening her eyes was another experience all on its own; when Lydia looked at everything, it was like the sky was set on fire. That, and the view of all of Beacon Hills was another thing to behold. She could see the twinkling of each light, see the buildings, and maybe if she looked close enough she could find out where her house and that of all of her friends were; the little set up on the rock only added to the beautify of the place. She wanted to tell him how amazing everything was, but no words had been able to escape her lips, they'd only slightly parted while her brows rose and a sigh left the confines of her mouth.

The truth was that she couldn't believe Stiles had thought of such an occasion so quickly, let alone that he had decided to share such a place with her. She caught on, though she didn't voice it, but she was aware that the place seemed like somewhere anyone could come to be alone, whenever they wanted to be away from people to have no one but their thoughts as company, not that she would understand such a thing, since being alone with her thoughts had brought on the worst of experiences.

Luckily for her, though, Stiles was with her at that very moment, and the only thing in her head was the imprint of what was displayed in front of her. Of course, she wanted to say something; she wanted to vocalize her appreciation for what Stiles had done for her, for them, _But how? _She squeezed his hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the skin of its back before she forced her eyes to pry away from the view into his own darkened amber hues. "It's perfect." She said, gifting him with a beatific smile.

And so they sat. The boy joyous over her likeness, nervous at most, but able to not act as such. Being his usual spastic, sarcastic self. Though there were times in which he attempted to be romantic; such was the case when he offered the strawberry blonde to prepare her food, and though at first she had been a little reluctant, she simply allowed him to do as he seemed to want to and sat there enjoying watching him as he split her sandwich in two. A sandwich that had chips in it as well, something the girl hadn't tried before. They spoke and then paused at times, eyes searching their surroundings as if the answer over how to act were printed on the stone under them, under the trees behind them or anywhere else. Both of them, not just Stiles, because they both wanted this, but they didn't know if they were acting different or not.

Yet, even then, it wasn't as awkward; most of the time it was all easy because they were Stiles and Lydia, friends more than anything, the girl who had stopped looking at him like the kid with a crush and the boy who had stopped looking at her like an unattainable deity. If anything, the only strange thing was the fact that they both seemed to try to talk to each other and know each other as something more than simply friends. They talked about their childhood, and how they each had seen life differently as they grew up. They shared sandwiches, cake, and in a very reminiscing manner, each of them enjoyed a peanut butter Reese's cup, which brought forth the topic of the first supposed date they'd ever been in together: the ice rink back in freshman year; not for the monsters that lurked under the ice for the strawberry blonde, but the one little detail of Lydia's dislike over the combination of colours of Stiles' favourite baseball team.

And such things continued; enjoying the food and shifting toppics to times such as primary school or even preschool with his best friend, or Lydia's own childhood were only a few of the wonderful things that took place in her company while the moonlight took comfort upon the sky. Memories such as times when Scott would, under no better influence than Stiles', get his friend's babysitters in trouble, or commit such mischief that would make the amber eyed boy's dad take them both into the station in mock show of what could take place were they to do something serious, were only a few of the things that resurfaced during their conversation. At one point they had both shifted on the plaid sheet they rested on until their hands had quite accidentally ended up touching in the softest of manners; and not Lydia nor Stiles attempted to correct such a motion. If anything, Lydia's eyes fell to where their hands connected, because it caused a fluttering in her stomach that she was not at all used to. It was only when she'd lifted her eyes from the contact that she realised that maybe she needed to stop attempting to try to find something wrong with what was happening, try to stop herself from thinking that Stiles would somehow change or perhaps finally see her as anything bur perfect; of course she wasn't aware that such a thing had already happened. It had been what had made him love her all the more.

Yet, like everything, even such an unexpected yet wonderful day had to come to an end. And so it had, which had the boy and, quite against his many attempts to let him do it alone, Lydia picking everything up and placing whatever was left of food, which wasn't that much anyway, in the bags. It didn't stop Stiles from wanting to get the girl to stop helping. "It's not that much, you know?" He said, reaching for a halfway empty bag of chips. "I can totally do it on my own."

"Mm, still helping." She said, ignoring his pleas for her to stop her aid and reaching for more of the food to place in the bag.

"Yeah, I can see that." His tone was sardonic as he picked up the garbage and set it in another empty bag. It didn't stop him from chuckling shortly and smiling at his hands due to her stubbornness the moment she stood with two bags in each of her hands. Not that any of it surprised him; Stiles knew she would never be one to let him spoil her _so _much in one day; yet, of course, he had to try. "I can pick up the last of it, don't worry." He could only hope she listened, but just in case, he found himself moving faster just so she wouldn't actually have _time _to help him anymore.

Her eyes rolled at the quick motions in which he moved, but then she simply turned around and went on her way to put the bags into the trunk or the back seat of her car, realising that by the time she placed the cake in the front seat, he could already be done picking up the rest. She sighed. So the boy would end up getting what he wanted in the end; almost, since she _had _helped for most of the process. Still, that didn't stop her from muttering under her breath about how stubborn a guy he could be when he wanted to; at least she had absolutely enjoyed herself during the whole date. Even the bits where she hadn't even known where she was going.

The moment that she had finished her task she'd closed the door and rested her hip against it while she waited for her friend to get to where they'd parked; her mind running in circles over what she thought would happen next. Though she wished she could spend more time with Stiles she knew they both should go home; even if she felt as if splitting up would make the day seem like nothing but a fantasy in both of their minds. Surprisingly it wasn't too much later when he was finally walking up to her with a quite victorious grin shinning across his lips. "Thank you." He sardonically stated, looking at her as his hands lowered to set the bags into the still open trunk as if that alone were some sort of win.

It made Lydia's brows raise in his direction as her lips quirked up into an amused smile that she made sure he didn't miss. Yet her gaze adverted from his features a second later, her teeth indented in the plushness of her bottom lip while nervous digits played with the hem of her emerald dress; there was a thought beating inside her brain that made the fluttering that remained new to her more evident, and worse than that, it was a thought that wouldn't evaporate the way many other thoughts would. "Hey, Stiles?" She heard herself saying, turning back around to face him, her eyes on his features as the smallest of inhalations expanded her lungs. "You forgot something." She stated with a hint of forced bravado.

For only a short moment Stiles had allowed his hands to check the bags in the trunk so he could see how much there were of leftovers; in other words, how much food he had to bribe his dad with so he didn't ground him too hard for being away from home with next to no word for two days in a row; not that he would, really, he'd be more concerned over the fact that Stiles was near the woods when he had specifically told him not to be. Yet, after a moment of deciding that what rested in the bags was enough, Stiles had moved to shut the trunk of the familiar car, only to feel his hands pause on their task in order to attempt a second check inside the bags as the smile that had been on his lips shifted into a little "o" of concern once the strawberry blonde's words had reached him from her place near the passenger door. "What?" He wondered out loud as his head whipped in the direction of the trail they had both taken in order to arrive to the cliff; instantly starting to consider if the thing he'd forgotten was worth the trip back or if he should just leave it there and pick it up the next time he came back... if it remained there. "Crap, what did I forget?"

She thought about it more than it seemed as her steps led her that much closer to the boy near her until she'd stopped barely a couple of inches away from him. Finally she began to feel right; Lydia knew in that very moment that their relationship could possibly be more, that she had only to seal the deal, to make it possible for Stiles to know how she felt as well, show him that she wouldn't dare reject him any longer. _It's only a date, you're not even at your door. _Lydia thought, but her head shook as what took minutes in her mind only landed her, seconds after his spoken question, right in front of him. "This," she said, refusing to talk herself out of that dangerous thought that played inside her mind. "You forgot this." She rested one hand on his shoulder as the other one travelled up to cup the side of his face, her thumb slowly caressing over the smoothness of his cheek while her gaze lowered to stare at his lips and her tongue came up to slide over her own. She had to admit that she was a bit nervous over the fact that she was actually initiating the contact; of course she was, but she wouldn't dare stop, she wouldn't allow herself to, not now. So she ghosted a breath over his mouth, then closed the distance between them both. At first it was hesitant, but after a couple of seconds, Lydia pressed her lips more firmly against Stiles'.

The truth was that as Lydia's mind travelled in hurried motions over the actions she was doing, Stiles' own had been so focused for a moment on figuring out ways to retrieve what Lydia had told him he'd forgotten, that the moment such tender touches from her digits slowly forced his face to turn toward her, he realised confusion lit up his every emotion; such so that a soft and nearly invisible frown wrinkled his forehead and the little concerned "o" his lips had formed, remained. In a way, Stiles' body caught up to the situation faster than his mind did, because suddenly his heart was beating so quickly that he truly feared a heart attack would make him die right there as his eyes practically studied Lydia's lips almost in slow motion; and then her lips were on his. Warm, soft, gifting him with a light kiss that had shock and some sort of fluttering emotion running through his insides. Emotions that heightened when their lips pressed firmer in the kiss, shocking his frozen stance into movement in the form of a hand lifting to rest against her waist and his lips responding to hers in a gentle yet somewhat confident motion as, with some sort of security of which origin Stiles was unsure of, he took the step that had the tips of his shoes brushing against her designer footwear. And though at some point mind and body had fully given in to the realisation of what was happening, somewhere deep inside there were fireworks going off in his head, and in that same corner, his fourteen year old self was cheering uncontrollably at the situation, because... well, he was kissing Lydia Martin, and, truth be told, even though they'd kissed before, twice started by him and mostly rejected by her... this time she wasn't pulling away; this time she had started it.

Now that the night had fully descended upon them, the cool breeze ruffled the strands of Lydia's hair, as well as the green dress that covered her body; one would think that she'd start to become colder since she was shorter than everyone – she always had a tendency to be more frigid than other people –, however, being as close to Stiles' frame as she was, and clinging to him to keep herself upright, all Lydia felt was the warmth spread throughout her form as the hand that was on his shoulder ascended to curve around the back of his neck, and her lips dragged down his to finally pull away. She needed to take a breath, she needed a moment to process what she had just done, what had just happened. There had only been one kiss she had initiated before, yet that one had been completely different; it had been to help out. Yet the one they had just shared felt new, it had been like a switch had been flicked somewhere, making her look at the boy before her in a different light.

Just before that friend date that had changed it all, Lydia had only been able to see the boy in her arms as only a friend, any thought of kissing him or going on dates with him had been inexistent or brushed away by sudden rushes of ignored loneliness; the truth was that so much had happened between the two, and none of it had been _normal, t_hey were both put into situations beyond their control. She usually held onto Stiles because something bad was about to happen, yet at that moment she held on because she _wanted _to be close to him. _Am I breathing? _Stiles wondered as her forehead rested against his, both their eyes closed as their hearts raced against their ribcages. And as they remained closely standing to each other, the hand that had found comfort on her waist lifted to rest gently on the rosy tone of her cheek. "Yeah, I'm never forgetting _that _again." Stiles said, followed by the shortest and softest chuckles to escape his lips.

At such words, Lydia smiled. The moment had been so slow, something that she usually didn't allow; not only that, but his hands had actually been at her waist, something she had actually once complained about being too innocent for her taste. But at that moment, with Stiles' hand so gently resting upon her cheek, she realised that she welcomed the slow pace of the situation, for she wanted their relationship, if they were to have one, to be taken in every way one step at a time. She cared deeply for the amber eyed boy, and she realised that the fears she'd had over the duration of her attraction to him were pointless, for it didn't seem to have an expiration date; she realised she would never want their relationship to be just a distraction, or meaningless. Where once she had only wanted physical attraction with other men she now realised there was a connection begging for more for the boy in front of her. "And if you do..." She said, clearing her throat and forcing her eyes open and her head to tilt back until she'd become able to look at Stiles' already open orbs. "Maybe I'll remind you." She paused. "If you're lucky." Giving him a smile that communicated only the reality of her words, though tainted with the tone she used to make such a statement seem anything but serious, her hands brushed down his arms prior to taking one simple step back; enjoying the smile that suddenly crossed his lips in clear understanding. "Thank you for the picnic." She said.

He nodded, of course, only once as his lips remained curved in the smile that seemed burnt onto slightly parted brims and his eyes searched hers for any signs of regret, joy, or _anything _that could tell him if the kiss had been as good and important of a moment for her as it had been for him; something that thankfully Lydia seemed oblivious about. "thank you for saying yes." He simply stated, allowing the pad of his thumb to caress the skin of her cheek before finally lowering his hand. His emotions were a pool, and he had a feeling that the every meaning of the shared moment with Lydia would hit the most when he was alone, and he would drown in it.

She finally moved away enough to stand properly on her heels, her hand running through her hair as she continued looking in the boy's direction for a few more counted moments. Now that she stood away from Stiles she could focus on the slight chill night air that blew strands of her hair around her face, and she hoped that, regardless of the way she'd been confused at the beginning, and rather cold at the end, Stiles could still tell that she had had a _very _good time during their picnic; hopefully the kiss could make him see as such. Which reminded her. "I put the cake in the front, so don't sit on it." She told him, smiling for a couple of moments more before finally looking away so she could walk past him in order to get to the driver's seat of the car.

Stiles didn't have a mirror, but he was pretty sure he was blushing because he felt colder on his face than anywhere else in his body due to the contrast of the heat on his cheeks and the slowly dropping temperature of the night. It made him need to clear his throat and look away from the moving frame of the strawberry blonde; using the information she provided him with as an excuse to do so while a hand, so suddenly empty, lifted to scratch at the back of his neck. "I'll put it on my lap." He informed her, forcing himself to look in her direction, and only regretting it when his cheeks burnt hotter once he remembered the teasing words and the kiss itself. He couldn't stop smiling.

He forced himself to move, though. Walking in swift motions, though he didn't need to, toward the driver's seat of her car so he could open the door for her, because he needed a short moment of air while she couldn't see his face, and because even then he still thought he'd take any opportunity to be chivalrous to Lydia Martin.

Some things simply would never dare change.

**To Be Continued.**


	7. Chapter 7: Goodnight

The drive to Stiles' house had come and gone; it passed too quickly, but Lydia Martin had been glad to be able to have that time to speak to him and listen to the sound of his voice. However, now she was sitting in the car as it parked outside of his place, looking over at him with half a smile as well as unbuckling her seatbelt. She was going to help him out with taking the leftovers inside because she knew that it would be too much to carry on his own. But of course, the moment she even attempted to move his lips parted to speak. "Don't even argue with me this time, it's happening." She stated, giving the boy a pointed look so he realised that she was not going to let him do it alone. She left the car running enough for the heater to do its job inside her car and basically left it before Stiles was even able to utter a word.

His lips closed and his nostrils flared while an exasperated sigh escaped his lips. Of course he wasn't going to be able to argue with Lydia, and that had his head shaking from side to side and unfreezing from his position in order to finally unbuckle his seatbelt and exit the car with the remaining of the cake, which had been resting on his lap, held between both hands. "Fine." He said with a quite childish tone, closing the passenger door with a shove of his hip and balancing the cake with one hand while the other fished his pockets for the keys.

The Sheriff's cruiser was in the parking space beside Stiles' Jeep, and the light of the living room was on, so the boy didn't even try to pretend that he wasn't trying to be quiet, because he was. Even though he still turned to face Lydia in order to take two of the bags in her hands, place the bag handles against the inside of his elbow, and shout-whispered in her direction as he walked toward his door in order to attempt opening it with as less noise as possible. "This is all backwards; _I'm _supposed to be the one driving you home!"

Bestowing him with a mirrored version of his triumphant grin, Lydia strode over behind him with the bags' handles held between her fingers; stopping only inches behind him once they'd reached his front door. "We had this conversation already, Stiles." Rolling her eyes, Lydia lowered her tone, because she caught on that Stiles was attempting to be stealthy; however, she wasn't too sure how they were supposed to sneak into the house of a police officer, who was probably waiting for the return of his son (who'd been absent from home for more than one night), without him actually noticing anything. She humoured Stiles, though, solely because she was curious to see if he could possibly pull it off. Maybe Stiles had such an action down to a science; maybe he was an expert of sneaking out or into his house without his dad knowing.

But then Stiles flailed; he actually flailed at Lydia with his one free hand so she could lower her voice a little more, making her have to fight a wave of laughter; yet, right after, with his tongue slightly out of his lips, Stiles managed to open the door quietly... at least until the moment it started creaking. His face scrunched up a little, one eye closed, one eye open, teeth exposed; he realised opening the door slowly was worse because the noise prolonged, which only made him have to open the door a lot faster in order to ser the cake on the table by the door and, just as quickly, turning toward Lydia to take the rest of the bags from her hands so he could set them _just _inside.

If he was lucky, his dad was sleeping, if he wasn't, then he'd heard all the noise Stiles had made and would soon head over to see what the racket was. But, judging by the lack of call, Stiles guessed he _was _lucky, after all. So he closed the door, rolling his eyes in defeat when the creaking echoed once again. "I tried." He simply told Lydia once the door had clicked shut. "I'd invite you in, but odds are he's going to shake me after being absent for so long and not calling him to let him know." _That, or the fact that I was in the woods when he actually told me not to be. _He completed in his head.

Pressing her lips together, Lydia's free hand rose so she could place it over her mouth, she couldn't help but attempt to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape; thankfully, though, she was able to. She didn't want to get Stiles in trouble, regardless of if it was partly her fault that he had been out for as long as he had been; she could only hope that all Stiles had to do was tell that to his father and know he wouldn't be too mad. It's not like they'd been up to no good, compared to all those other times they were out too late fighting evil, a date sounded like quite a normal and harmless explanation. Sure, they'd both been drunk the night before, but... "It's okay." She simply said, her head nodding and her hand waving off his concern. "I've taken enough of your time already, _and _I left my car running, so." Curving her lips up into a smile, Lydia dropped her gaze from his, then just as quickly looked back up in his direction, her arm going around her middle as she took a moment to take one last lingering look before she had to leave. She knew she'd see him at school, however she wanted to take the moment to memorize the night by looking into his eyes before she had to get back to reality and all those things she usually did to prep for the new school week. "'Night, Stiles." She said in a tone barely higher than a whisper, thinking of calling Allison due to the fact that she would probably be dying to know every detail of the past day. "Next time, I'll tuck you in." She teased, smiling for what felt like the millionth time that day.

It was quite automatic, the way Stiles just moved a little closer to the strawberry blonde; sure, partly it was so that they could both whisper the way she had done, but even then, moving close to her was something he wouldn't have easily done years back without having gotten a few steps taken back from the girl in response. It was that, plus the manner of her utterance, that had his lips curved up in a mirroring smile. Because they were carefree, her words, and because they reminded her of the way in which everything had changed in already probably twenty for hours. And he was going to say something; really, he was. But then the colours that played in Lydia's eyes had any and every coherent thought escape from his mind; his own amber orbs narrowed the slightest bit, saying more than what he possibly could have hoped to with any words.

And that's when he started thinking about kissing Lydia Martin once again; when the way in which the faint light of the front porch's light bulb and the moon made her features seem even more beautiful than usual; but not just because of that. Because everything had _actually _started to down on him; everything that had happened, everything that had changed: the drunken night, her honest words, the manner in which she asked him to stay, the way he'd blurted out his date proposal, the date itself, the kisses.

At some point, one in which he must have been too distracted by what he saw in her eyes, one of his hands had lifted to take one of hers in a gentle hold, and then he was putting his thoughts into action: Stiles had started to slowly lean in toward Lydia with one goal in his mind, yet still pausing enough to give her the opportunity to pull away if she so desired. Yet... she didn't. She was surprised; she didn't think he would actually be the one to initiate things with her, she guessed that perhaps she would have to, since she tended to, or the fact that all the previous times he'd attempted such a contact she had moved away in one way or another; however... this time, she let him move closer to her, and she didn't more or pull away.

This time, Lydia curled her fingers in the fabric of Stiles' shirt, then tugged to bring him down to her so her lips could fully press against his in a kiss goodnight. It was such a way of response that gave the boy enough go to allow his lips to press firmly against hers; where they'd been hesitant, they became confident, kissing her as his arms wrapped around her gently; only allowing himself the proximity once she'd made it clear that she wanted it as well. She didn't know what it was; maybe the way he never failed to look at her like she was something special, of made her feel as if she was. Stiles was the only one since Jackson who ever made her feel something more than just a need; it was a more of a want. She wanted him to kiss her, and she wanted to kiss him back, she _wanted _him, she wanted to hold him, to stay in his arms until she fell asleep just like they'd done the previous night. It made her arms move to wrap under his jacket, taking the opportunity to take a bit of his body heat as well as using such a motion as an excuse to get even closer to the boy. In the back of her mind she was scared, scared of feeling, scared of getting too close, but it was too late. She simply didn't care, she was too far gone.

Hugging Lydia closer to him made the distance between the two disappear, and with it, the world. For all that mattered at that moment was her; her hands, her arms around him, the way _she _had pulled him toward her, surprising him as much as the very first kiss she had initiated once upon a time in the locker room, the way she held him as much as he held her, making him feel as if his heart were to stop at any moment, because that, _that _kiss was full of all the things he'd held back from Lydia in fear of rejection, that kiss burnt out the flame of any doubt he'd had before; nothing mattered, not at that moment, because Lydia Martin was, had been, and probably always would be, the one that Stiles had always wanted, and for the millionth time in the past twenty four hours, it started to feel like maybe she wanted him, too.

They didn't know how much time passed, for time truly did seem to just _stop _at that moment; but Stiles was brought down to the realisation of where they were like a parachute-less free fall from a plane, when the unmistakable and specially loud words of his father tooted from inside the house. "STILES, THAT BETTER BE YOU. YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE GOING TO CALL ME WHE—oh." His words stopped seconds after the door opened and he froze at what he was seeing; it had all happened too fast for Stiles' mind to register it properly, and he was only swiftly and suddenly pulling away from Lydia by the time the Sheriff's words cut out.

He had never felt more frustrated at his father (and also a little embarrassed and guilty) than at that moment. "Dad." He said, huffing a breath and lifting a hand to nervously scratch at the back of his head.

The sheriff's emotions travelled through his face; surprise, joy, the tiniest shade of what Stiles hopped to be guilt, and then finally, the emotion he decided to focus on in the end: frustration. "Five minutes." He said, pointing in his son's direction, prior to smiling at the strawberry blonde whose lips were pressed together in a half amused smile. "Nice to see you, Lydia."

Lydia's eyes widened only a little as she raised one hand over her lips and lifted the other in order to wiggle his fingers in a greeting and goodbye for the boy's father just before the door shut closed behind him once again. She wasn't sure if she should be ashamed or amused as she allowed her eyes to fall on a slightly blushing Stiles, but there was a smile across her lips when she decided to speak. "I should go." She announced, raising onto her tip toes so she could place a quick peck onto Stiles' cheek, then gifted him with another smile, albeit trying to keep the amusement from showing upon her features.

She wasn't ashamed that they'd gotten caught by Stiles' father, not that way. It was just a little startling to be interrupted when she was too busy being distracted by the tall amber eyed boy. He nodded at her words. She could still remember the time when she had ignored him without a second thought; now she was kissing him outside his door and keeping him to herself for a whole day. "Okay." He said. "Drive carefully."

Her head bobbed in a nod. Who knew that such a thing was what Lydia Martin would be doing? She'd figured she would be off with her best friend, partying, finding random boys to satiate her needs with, studying. But the look in Stiles' eyes, the way they'd spent their day, it was something she could get used to. "Maybe cake will make things a little better?" She said with a nod in the direction of the door and a smile to tease him.

"I hope." He replied, trying to push back the flustered feeling he'd gotten from the moment his father had disappeared into the house again.

Lydia's shoulders shrugged for a moment as she looked up at Stiles. "Goodnight, then." She said, allowing the smile to remain before she took a step back and turned around in order to walk back toward her car. "See you at school."

He didn't know what to do for a moment, though short, even as some sort of emotion made his whole being relax even as she walked away. "Text me when you get home!" He requested, still feeling strange, or wrong about not taking Lydia home himself in order to make sure she made it safely there, as he watched her get in her car. The ghost of the kiss she'd placed on his cheek remained, and it soothed him, but now she was leaving, and even as he waved at her and watched her car disappear from his driveway, Stiles felt as if the moment he walked back into his home he'd wake up from the dream.

It wasn't until a couple of seconds after she'd driven away that Stiles actually turned around with what he could only think of as an overwhelmed and disbelieving exhale of breath while his hand scratched at the back of his neck. Then he went into the house, not at all surprised to not see the bags with leftovers, or the cake, by the door anymore; his dad had most likely moved them. His next step was to find him; a half guilty, half embarrassed expression taking over his features.

When he stood face to face with the Sheriff, his face twisted as if he were waiting for a metaphorical punch to the stomach, like an _Oops! _That broke against his features regardless of the manner in which his dad was unable to hide the small smile against his lips. "You're still grounded." He told him, and Stiles nodded, finally lowering his hand and acceptingly shrugged.

"I guess I deserve that." He said with a sigh and the lightest of chuckles.

"You were with Lydia all this time?" The Sheriff wondered, and even if he'd tried, Stiles wouldn't have been able to keep the smile from his lips as he admitted to the 'guilt' he was accused of to his dad. And then he was asking the boy questions, and the amber eyed boy was happily answering them. And that was the end of the best twenty six hours of Stiles Stilinski's life...

...so far.

**To Be Continued.**


	8. Chapter 8: The Perks Of Being Grounded

Every so often Lydia Martin would find herself tapping her foot, or even her pencil against the front of her notebook. There were moments when she flicked her eyes to check the clock to see what time it was, or how much time had passed since she last checked it. Only a few minutes since she'd last checked, and it frustrated her because she wanted to see Stiles; with him being grounded, lunch break and the moments between exiting her class and walking to her car were the only times they could see each other. She knew that, like the past ten days, Stiles would be waiting right outside of her classroom, leaning against the lockers and being much more patient than she was. She sighed.

Resting her cheek against the palm of her hand, Lydia continued fiddling with her pen as she wondered about Allison and what she had once said to her. _Is this what she meant? _She wondered, _Was this what she feels when she sees Scott, or does what I'm currently doing at the end of the day, even between classes, or at lunch? _It had only been one week and three days since that date, and Lydia Martin knew that the way she was feeling was not the way meant for someone she had only gone on a date with ten days prior. It was all to new; she had just figured out how she even felt about the boy, how could she possibly have _feelings _for him?

The truth was that it was all confusing, she never had anything like what she was feeling before, not with anyone. She had loved Jackson, but she had never felt those tiny sparks when she thought about him, except now, when she thought about Stiles, she did. Of course, it could be due to the fact that because she wasn't able to see him much since he'd gotten grounded that sense of her that she always wanted what she couldn't have was kicking in. That had to be it, she couldn't like a guy only after ten days. She wanted to have a discussion about the subject with Allison, however, at the same time, she was a little overwhelmed by how she was feeling, mostly because it was about Stiles.

Stiles; the same dorky, spastic, hyperactive, clumsy guy who was really good at kissing, who would shift awkwardly, but then skim his fingers over her waist only to make her heart beat loudly in her ears. It was the same boy who would flail his arms while animatedly speaking about something he liked and then reached for her hand under the lunch table in such an innocent way that also felt slightly too intimate and made that heartbeat reach her ears again. Their friends looked at them like they just _knew _something was going on between them, and well they should since most of them were wolves and could hear the sudden quickening of her heart whenever Stiles touched her. _Dear god. _She had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide the smile that was forcing on her lips as she checked the clock one more time; but then she huffed, only a minute since she last checked.

She could tell as she fidgeted in her seat, that Allison was dying to poke her and ask what was going on with her; she could felt her eyes staring a hole into the middle of her skull from behind. Although Lydia figured her best friend wasn't clueless, she was sure Scott and Isaac had told her about their suspicions just because it amused them; more so Isaac than anyone else, because Scott was always on his best friend's team, and not only that, it always seemed that he was one of the people who rooted for her and Stiles to get together. Even Allison seemed pleased about what she probably thought was going on, considering that it was her who got Lydia to go to the dance with Stiles.

She wasn't going to say a word to anyone, though, not yet. Not until she had gotten her thoughts together. "I would ask you to hang out, but I see that Stiles is already waiting for you." Came Allison's voice in a soft whisper behind Lydia, making her eyes flick toward the slightly ajar door of the classroom where she could see half of Stiles' body looking slightly nervous and waving at a person who passed by, through the small crack. "Maybe we can go on a double date." Allison's dulcet tone whispered in her ear and made her look away from the boy outside the door once again, and Lydia knew her best friend was grinning.

"Sure, Ally." Rolling her eyes, Lydia began organizing her stuff along with the rest of the classroom that suddenly realised it was almost time to go. And, well, everyone says time goes by faster when you're _doing _something, and so it proved when, after what felt to her like only a few seconds, the bell rang. She stood up a few beats after the echo died down while pretending to fix her things inside her bag, for there was a part of her that didn't want to look to eager to see the amber eyed boy, even though she was.

"Bye, Lydia!" Allison strode by her, giving her that smile that lit up her features and made those dimples of hers dent her cheeks. The strawberry blonde tried to ignore her due to the heat building up under her cheeks, but then she swallowed everything down, lifted her chin, and sauntered up from her seat and out of the classroom.

However, the moment she laid eyes on Stiles again, seeing him standing there with a grin across his lips as he lifted a hand in a two fingered wave in Allison's direction and voiced a goodbye prior to placing both his hands on the straps of his backpack again, Lydia simply couldn't stop herself from smiling at him. It was only when he finally looked in her direction, stood a little straighter and dropped his arms to his sides that she finally walked in his direction while lowering her eyes for a short seconds. "Hi, Stiles." She greeted the moment she reached him and her eyes looked back up into his.

"Hey." He simply replied, trying to make himself build up courage for what he wanted to do as he smiled warmly toward her. Simply attempting to talk himself into it as his heart nearly beat out of his chest. "How was class?"

Sneaking a glance around the hallway, her lips pressed together for a moment while she gathered her thoughts so she could answer to his inquiry. Truthfully, Lydia had been a little too distracted for the majority of the class, mostly answering and doing her work automatically, looking to check the time, thinking about the boy in front of her, trying to analyze their relationship as well as figuring out just exactly how she was feeling, but once her line of sight landed back on Stiles, she gifted him with another dazzling smile as her shoulders shrugged in a nonchalant manner while her fingers hitched her bag to secure its place. "Not as challenging as I'd hope it to be." She lied, exhaling a breath, and allowing her eyes to study Stiles' features for a couple of moments. "You still grounded?" She wondered, tilting her head and secretly hoping that maybe the Sheriff would relent to allow his son to go out somewhere with her, because even _she _was getting a little bored of constantly doing school work.

"Yeah, for a few days." He replied with a short shrug of his shoulder; and he was going to say more, but before he could, Lydia had nodded, a short look of disappointment crossing her features for such a short time that Stiles started to think he'd imagined it, and turned away so they could make their way to the parking lot. That's when he started seeing the opportunity of his intentions slipping away.

He was nervous, his heart drumming against his ears again and again as in only seconds he realised that if he didn't move quickly, then he simply would not even try to do what he'd planned; for he'd only walk the strawberry blonde to her car and then force himself to return home. But he couldn't, he simply couldn't do that, so before he could talk himself out of it, Stiles moved as fast as he could. "Lydia, wait!" He called, walking the few steps that separated them both and catching her hand with his,tugging on it as gently as he could while still being quick, until the girl had crashed against him as much as his lips had crashed against hers. His free arm wrapped around her waist, and he didn't care that it'd all been sudden, nor that they were literally in the middle of a somewhat crowded hallway at school, he only cared that he'd finally done what he'd been dying to do for the entirety of the day.

The thing was that, for Lydia, turning away moments prior had meant that she could keep her emotions at bay and hiding them from exposure. She had told herself that she wasn't going to be afraid any longer, yet there she was, shutting down because she was scared of the intense emotions that came over her all at once. It was hard to process, something she was always able to do with things, except apparently with feelings. So when Stiles had called her name she had figured that he was going to give her another speech about how she was falling back into old habits, or he wanted to catch up with her; however, the last thing she had expected was to have him pull her into the circle of his arms and claim her lips the way he had.

But she liked it.

The last person she would ever say to do something like that was Stiles, yet even as the crowd of students milled about the hallway, Lydia gave in as if her body had a mind separate from her fearful head. Her hands travelled up the fabric of Stiles' shirt until they'd slid around the back of his neck, her fingers raking through the dark strands of his hair, and she responded instantly to the press of his mouth against hers with the same intensity that was bestowed upon her. She hadn't realised, or allowed herself to think about, how much she had wanted to kiss the boy until it had happened. It had that confusion of hers sparkling up even more than before.

After a short moment, Stiles' arms tightened around her frame briefly prior to finally forcing himself to pull away from the connection. Not because he wanted to, exactly – hell, he'd spend hours kissing Lydia Martin if he could –, but because he suddenly not only realised he'd shortly held his breath, but also remembered he was grounded and had next to no extra time after school to get home. He smiled, regardless, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Sorry." He told Lydia without letting go of her.

Usually, in most circumstances, being momentarily stolen of a kiss such as the one Stiles had coveted would merit a negative reaction. When she wasn't a hundred percent aware of a situation, or if she wasn't the one calling the shorts while making sure to exert her influence over the other person, she didn't take well to it; however, it was different with Stiles. He wasn't trying to take away her need to be in charge, if she knew him well, then she knew he had only done as such because if he didn't, then he'd find a reason not to. So it came as a complete surprise and throttle of confusion when the boy apologised in such a smiley manner. "Why are you apologising?" She wondered, forcing herself to peer up at the boy instead of staring at his mouth and attempting to catch the breath that she had seemed to have lost.

A short scoffed breath of nervousness left Stiles' lips for a short moment as his head shook. "I just _really _needed to do that." He admitted as he allowed a breath of eminent relief at the manner with which she had responded. He was bold, yes, but his usual fear of her rejection had stopped him from attempting thought actions more times than not. Things seemed to be changing, though.

And he wasn't the only one noticing such a thing. The pads of Lydia's fingers drew over Stiles' hairline, her mouth quirking up into a small smile as her gaze once again lifted to inspect the boy's features. "Maybe this grounding thing has its perks, after all." She halfway teased.

He breathed a short laugh; he didn't want to let go of her; he wanted to just keep her in his arms and kiss her again. But as much as he wanted to ignore the fact that they were both in the middle of a slowly emptying hallway in their high school, he simply couldn't ignore the fact that if he was home _late, _his dad would ground him even more. So, pressing the lightest kisses against her lips for a couple of seconds, he finally let her go. Smiling down at her and moving his hand until it was holding hers, he nodded, of course, because maybe Lydia was right and the only reason he got so bold all of a sudden was due to the fact that he knew he wasn't going to see her until the very next day. "As much as I agree," he couldn't erase the smile from his lips, "I kind of want it to be over already."

It didn't matter how many times he managed to kiss her, there was always that little glitch in her brain that made her momentarily forget anything that wasn't the two of them, of course, once he pulled away from her, everything seemed to be set back into place. She realised that the once crowded hallway was emptier, the sounds of closing lockers had nearly stopped. "It'll pass quickly." She told him, giving his hand a soft squeeze in what she hoped came off as reassurance. "Studying can occupy your time." She didn't want to do as she spoke, but she also knew that she could easily call Allison to hang out. Regardless, she aimed a smile up at him while her fingers threaded with his; she wanted to keep the subject of his grounding to a minimum due to the fact that admitting that she missed him when she was alone in her room would show a bit of weakness, and, as it was, the boy was already chinking her armour enough.

His hand remained entwined with hers, and the smile remained across his lips as she looked down at their contact prior to looking up into her own hues. "You'd say that." He voiced, lifting his free hand to rest on the strap of his backpack before they both turned to start walking in order to head to the parking lot. "I can't study all that time, it's too much. If I do I might actually end up dreaming about math." To such a statement Stiles had no other choice than to feign a tortured groan.

Walking down the hallway with the amber eyed boy and having a conversation about studying was solely a ploy to distract from anything deeper, but it also felt good to be able to speak about something as mundane as school work; it was why she was smiling. "This is why you need me, Stiles." She teased with a short shake of her head as her eyes playfully rolled at him. "You're hopeless without my help. I mean, dreaming about math?" Her brows rose, a feigned confused and curious expression crossing her features with a tilt of her head. "People do that?"

"See, that's why you coming over would be the best thing." It was a simple statement, a true one, and the smile that had been across his lips while he'd said it deflated into a smaller version prior to speaking his next words. "But, well. You know." He flailed his free hand once. "Grounded." He sighed, and already felt himself counting down the seconds until Friday came around and his punishment could be over. Then he could finally take Lydia on another date. "Trust me when I say you don't want to dream about math, though." He nodded, a half serious expression crossing his features as he looked at her. "Ever. It's like being attacked by deformed monsters that, judging by the lack of normalcy in this town, I'd _not _be surprised to discover were real."

Knowing that Peter had once been one of the deformed monsters that had visited in her slumber, making her do things that she had absolutely no recollection of doing, Lydia could only attempt a humorous roll of her eyes in his direction. Her fingers squeezed his tightly for only a second and a smile painted across her lips as she glanced at him. "Just think about happy things." She encouraged.

"I _always _think about happy things, what are you talking about?" He smiled shortly at her, flicking his eyes in front of him when he realised the school's main doors were only steps away; so close that his heart almost hurt, because it meant isolation once again, going nearly out of his mind with nothing to do on his own.

"Well, you can always call or text me if killer numbers invade your dreams, Stiles." She told him, putting on another smile to show the boy that everything was okay, lightening her tone by teasing him about the subject, yet conveying the seriousness of her statement with the look in her eyes.

And as he smiled at her, the idea plummeted into his brain. "How opposed would you be to me texting you _while_ I do my homework?" He wondered out loud, feigning an expression of worry for her benefit for a short moment. "Or is that totally against your homework rules?"

"I'm very well-versed in the art of multitasking." She admitted, warm to the idea he offered her due to the fact that it would also give her an excuse to take short intervals from her own work while being able to speak to Stiles and even help him with what he was doing. "As long as it doesn't get you in trouble." Her eyes looked at him with a nearly strict expression. "I don't want to be the reason you get a longer punishment." She didn't move away from him, in fact, if anything, she moved a little closer.

Stiles, of course, couldn't wipe away the smile that formed across his lips due to her closeness; the pad of his thumb brushing gently against the back of her hand even while with his free limb he moved to push open the front door of the school so she could go first. "My dad's not going to punish me for texting." He shook his head. "He's not a high school teacher." The way he tried to reassure the strawberry blonde was humorous yet still serious, a feat he communicated with the grin he gifted her with. "Not that it'd stop me from texting if he did, to be honest." Truly, either her or Scott, but there was absolutely no way Stiles would have survived the past week and a half without texting or even Skyping his best friend. Lydia, on the other hand, he had been a little scared to contact. Why? He wasn't exactly sure.

All it took was that one simple gesture from Stiles to relax the tension that coiled throughout her frame; a tension that Lydia hadn't even realised was there. Replacing that sudden anxiousness from their prior conversation, was a sudden warmth caused from the gentle caress on the back of her hand, spreading up until it reached her cheeks. How something so miniscule could affect her in such a way was beyond her comprehension, and it made her stare at Stiles like he was an enigma. "Parents threaten to take away social devises too, you know?" She joked while attempting to push back the flicker of reminding of the lingering attraction for the amber eyed boy that consumed her to the point that she was questioning everything recently. "It's not just a school thing," she continued, "my mother tried to do it once, and she failed miserably."

Those words alone made a gentle chuckle escape Stiles' lips along with a shake of his head, letting go of the doors as soon as he'd crossed them without daring to look away from her. "But, Lydia, your mom _is _a teacher." It was spoken in a playful tone, as if he were simply continuing with the banter to relax both himself and the banshee at his side, while wishing he could actually invite her over while both of them managed to step toward the big parking lot of the school.

Rolling her eyes at his words, Lydia shook her head and allowed the smallest of smiles to form across her lips; as if she wasn't actually reminded of the fact ever third period when she had to take her mother's class. "I'm aware of that, thank you." Mirroring Stiles' tone, her eyes scanned the parking lot to find her car, and when she located it, she looked in Stiles' direction once again, not at all surprised to see that amused smile crossing his lips. "Text me later, okay?" She asked, taking a few steps forward to stand in front of him, enough to make their step halt, her eyes searching his for a moment.

His eyes looked down at her with an expression that could only be described as some sort of admiration as his head bobbed in a short nod. "Of course I will." He confirmed, and a long breath made his chest rise and fall once it was exhaled. "And you text me when you get home, alright?" It was a simple request; one he always asked of her when he couldn't make sure she actually got home safely.

"Of course I will." She smiled, playfully rolling her eyes once again, yet squeezing his hand one last time prior to letting go; and Stiles had thought that had been it, that she'd turn around and leave, but before he even could think of anything else, her arms were around his frame, making his body react to her actions quicker than his mind could catch up to, for his arms returned the embrace, gently squeezing her against him, and burying his face against her strawberry blonde locks.

There was a saying, somewhere, that no matter how much one wanted it, one would never be able to know what it was like to hold the whole world in their arms, yet, at that very moment Stiles decided he could prove anyone who chose to throw that saying at him, wrong; for he seemed to be able to hold his world against him, as corny as that may sound.

It made him smile, even when she pulled away from him and leaned on her tip toes to press a short kiss against his lips before actually turning away in order to walk to her own car. He watched her go, thinking of how she had wanted to hug him, how she seemed to definitely want to kiss him earlier, and how there was still some part of him that, even after nearly two weeks, simply couldn't believe such things were not part of a dream he was about to wake up from or, something he'd just imagined.

Maybe a part of him always would.

**To Be Continued.**


	9. Chapter 9: Dreams And Reality

At some point during Stiles' boring attempts at making his homework completing a little slower, he had actually fallen asleep on his book; and weird dreams of strangely dancing Muppet Draculas popped like a bubble from his mind the moment a knock echoed on his bedroom door. "Mmm." He groaned, but the door didn't open, instead the knock came again; shaking the boy even more from his sleeping state, enough to make him jerk his whole body up on his hands as if he'd actually heard someone shooting a gun. "Huh?" Another knock. _Weird. _His dad would have called him by now. So he shook his head quickly to wake himself up further, and as he got up, more like stumbled away from his bed, his hands lifted to rub the sleep away from his face.

Only a few moments after, when he'd made it steps away from the door, did one of his hands lower from his face in order to twist the doorknob and uncover what the weird knock had been. And what he saw when he did, made his other slowly lowering hand freeze along with the rest of his frame; the only sign of life a second later had been the confused tilt of his head as his eyes focused on the image of Lydia Martin. "Am I still asleep?" He asked quite thoughtlessly. _I'm still grounded... right? _

Lydia's lips curved downwards for a moment when her eyes took in the boy's dishevelled state; the idea of having waken him up came unwelcome, yet she'd missed him, and seeing his adorable sleepy features were enough to make whatever guilt that had arrived evaporate completely from her features. "I don't know, Stiles." She teased, shrugging a shoulder shortly. "How do you tell the difference between your dreams and reality?" Bringing her line of sight from his messy hair to his eyes, her lips turned up into a small and rather playful smile.

"I—uh..." The question that left from her lips had been so strange that for a moment he actually started thinking he was still asleep, but then he blinked, moving both his hands, palms up, to lift in front of him and lowering his eyes to quickly scan over his fingers; he could still remember the moments when, as a child, his mom would make him hold his fingers up so she could count them. _I'm not dreaming,_ she'd say, and then she'd hug him. Of course, at some point, young Stiles had had to ask what she was doing, thus came the explanation that one had extra fingers in dreams.

Stiles? He only had ten at the moment, so he was able to relax enough to know Lydia was actually standing outside his bedroom door. Due to the little memory of his, his whole demeanour shifted into a smile, and the need to make light of the situation he knew Lydia wasn't aware of, overcame him. "Well, you're not a dancing Muppet, for one." He said, forcing out a breathed chuckle as, with one of his hands, he reached for Lydia in order to pull her gently into the room. He may still be a little asleep, and he may still be somewhat tired and suddenly thinking of his mum, but that didn't make the boy any less glad to see the strawberry blonde outside of school. On the contrary.

It was always interesting for Lydia to see the boy move so confidently while still looking adorably tired. It made her smile, locking the image of what the boy had done while looking at his hands somewhere inside her mind to ask about later at some other point. "I brought food if you're hungry." She informed him while squeezing his fingers and gifting him with another smile prior to looking at him with a curious gaze; had he been dreaming of numbers the way he had said the other day? She could think of one fang-y Muppet that counted numbers while dancing. It suddenly made sense why he was so confused all of a sudden. Letting out a light laugh, she reached her hand out to gently brush her fingers over Stiles' cheek while her head shook back and forth. "Usually I would advocate for all this studying, but a break would seem to do you good."

The smile across his lips remained while he pushed his bedroom's door shut, but when his eyes landed on her again all he could do was narrow his eyes due to her words; mostly because of the mention of food, but also because there she was, actually encouraging him to stop his studies. So, of course, the sardonic tone on his own utterance remained when he spoke again. "Lydia, you need to stop speaking like this, you're truly making me wonder if I'm still asleep or not." It was obviously a joke, but he allowed it to echo for a few more beats while letting go of the girl in order to press his hand against his face once again. "Am I not grounded anymore?" He wondered, before his hands lowered swiftly, one finger pointing in her direction. "Wait... you said something about food." His eyes landed on her once again.

"I really don't want to know what goes on in that head of yours." Lydia said, pressing her lips together and crossing her arms under her chest whilst looking off into another direction of the boys' room, but she shrugged. "I think it was the food, you know? You're still grounded, but you Stilinski men can never pass up good cooking." Gifting Stiles with a smug grin, she looked at him once again and nodded curtly. "I'll wait here." She announced, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Wait, cooking?" The words made his brows raise, and his eyes opened up a little more, head inclined forward a little and one short step took him closer to the girl. "You..." He blinked, mostly because he was trying to process the information in a brain that had been asleep only a few moments prior. "You cooked for me?"

"Technically, I cooked something for your _dad_." Lydia admitted with a bemused smile as she pushed her hair over one shoulder. Lest she actually admit she had missed Stiles enough to think of ways of bribing and convincing the Sheriff to let her see the boy. "But you're welcome to have some if there's any left." Giving him a lift of her lips, Lydia pressed her hands on top of the bed covers.

For only a second his eyes travelled toward the closed door; knowing his dad the boy knew that he better get some of whatever it is Lydia had brought before he finished it all. Yet, at the same time, the sole fact that Lydia _was _there... "Hold on..." He voiced quickly, shifting his eyes toward her again as a suddenly concerned expression crossed over his features. "Is everything okay?"

Lydia's brows rose, taken shortly aback by the question. Was he asking her because her coming over was something she mostly did in times of trouble, because he was grounded, or was there something going on that she wasn't aware of? "Everything's fine, Stiles." She admitted, tilting her head shortly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I'm just trying to make sense of how you're here." At those words his eyes narrowed, but all he did after was shake his head and move so he could sit beside the girl. Because according to logic she wasn't supposed to be there, he was grounded, and grounded meant some sort of detainment. Yet, knowing the Sheriff, if it had been a matter of life and death he'd make an exception. Thus, his conclusion that the reason the strawberry blonde was in his room wasn't a good one.

"My car." Lydia rolled her eyes, a sardonic tone bleeding into her words. "I drove here." She knew exactly what the boy meant, but the words left her lips before she could stop them, and she wasn't about to speak of the real reason she found herself sitting in Stiles' room. The one where she actually missed being close to him in a setting that wasn't the cafeteria at school. "Did your dad tell you specifically that you weren't allowed anyone over?" Bestowing him with a genuine smile, her gaze stayed on his for a few moments.

Of course, at her sarcasm all Stiles could do was roll his eyes, regardless of if the smile was etched onto his features; and he would play along with it because, well, it was Lydia, and by then he didn't need her to spell things out right (most of the time), instead he focused on her later words, and all he did was allow a bob of his head before replying to her inquiry. "Not by many words, no." He admitted. "But he did tell Scott that I was grounded and didn't let him come in." A breathed scoff puffed from his nose and he lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I guess I did scare him a bit." He mused, lowering his hand and reaching for one of Lydia's, making her eyes, which had looked around his room, land on their held hands. "It's almost Friday, though, maybe that's why...?"

Stiles putting his hand on hers was a regular occurrence, yet now it caused her skin to warm at the simple contact. "It's understandable." She stated, which meant that she would have worried herself silly as well if anything ever happened to Stiles; if he went missing for as long as he had been with her, then she would go out of her mind trying to find him. She cleared her throat discretely and nodding a couple of times; but he was safe, so she didn't want to think about such things and bringing down the moment. So she painted on a smile, then nudged the boy's shoulder with her free hand. "You and Scott get in all kinds of trouble," She admitted, "I come to your house bearing gifts, there's your reason." It was only a jest, Scott was the sweetest, kindest, and truest person to ever exist; still, she finished her teasing words. "I'm the lesser of two evils."

"Evils?" Stiles' eyes flicked in her direction while a smile edged onto his lips. Those words made the hand that held hers softly squeeze hers shortly. "You're not evil." It was a simple statement; but it had his mind suddenly running in overdrive at the manner in which Lydia could sometimes look at someone like she was ready to rip their throat out with her bare hands, and the sole fact that she could be _that _scary had the boy backtracking a bit. "I mean, you could be if you wanted to." His eyes narrowed as they fell on the floor before them; and the distant memory of her party once upon a time bubbled up inside his brain. "You're not, are you?" He looked up at her once again.

Raising her brows, Lydia gazed at Stiles for a couple of beats, pressed her lips together in a tight line, then broke out into a short but jovial laugh, shaking her head and scooting closer to the boy's frame. "Don't worry, I'm not." She admitted, lowering her head to rest it against his shoulder, putting on a serious demeanour as she looked at their entwined hands, her digits tracing random patterns over Stiles' hand. "You would know if I was." She stated, taking a breath to push back the side of her that yelled at her that she was letting go of her rock-like demeanour too much around him. "You always know these things."

_Of course you're not evil. _Stiles thought; if she were the pack would have noticed, mostly him, on that she was completely right. It was a silly thing to think of, and it completely poofed away from his mind the moment it downed on him how easily the girl moved to rest against him; regardless of how many times it happened, each time his heard seemed to pick up, yet it was only shown by the light manner with which he placed his one free hand on top of hers on his; it was a short and gentle gesture, a soft caress of his thumb against her skin that lasted a few moments. It was a comfortable silent moment in which he became able to realise a little more how they'd both been together for the past few days; how movements and contacts that had already been automatic and easy became even more personal yet equally familiar. And the kisses; oh, the kisses. Each one better than the last, it made him want more; it made him want to just lift her face from his shoulder so he could claim her lips in a kiss, but he didn't. Because something inside him simply stopped him from it; instead, it lead him to break the comfortable silence with a gentle clear of his throat. "Um..." He didn't move. "So, uh... Lydia?" He didn't want to disrupt her comfort, nor did he want her to move away from him, so he simply finished his thought. "My last day of being grounded is in two days..."

Most of the time Lydia's brain continued telling her that something was going to happen, that being so close to someone wasn't something she would do, it was wrong, and it was bound to get messed up somehow; maybe that was why she wanted to keep quiet, she was too afraid of saying something wrong or shutting down, even though every touch sent a spark throughout her form; she was afraid of igniting and being consumed until there was nothing but a shell of who she used to be. "Oh?" Of course, there was that other nagging voice telling her that it was Stiles, that he would never do anything to hurt her, and if he did then it would make him suffer the consequences. Her eyes lifted along with her head for a moment, glancing up at him with a small smile, her tone taking on a teasing timbre. "Do you have any plans? I'm sure Scott will be itching to see you."

His eyes lowered to look into Lydia's own with short disbelief; the look crossing her features only making the need to just shift his body and kiss her the stronger; but no, he had started something, so he had to finish it before he did anything that could, in any way, influence her decision. Which made him realise; for someone who sometimes sent out signals or little clues for either guys, or the occasional monster (lest he ever forget Peter Hale) to decipher, Lydia truly didn't catch on fast. He tried to not think too much about it as he squeezed her hand once again and a shortly amused scoffed breath escaped his lips in the form of a _pfff._ "No." He said. "Lydia, I want to make plans with you." The laugh that followed was a nervous one; nervous because, as always, he feared that Lydia would simply realise what she was doing and suddenly say no.

She had known the boy would want to make plans with him, she just didn't want to sound too eager to accept them, or be the first one to say that they should make plans; and now they were faced with the wonder of what they were going to do. "Sure, we can hang out." She said, maybe they could go on a double date with Allison and Scott, maybe something on their own. Yet instead of those things, the words that left her lips were innocent, friendly. "Do you need me to help you with your schoolwork?" She wondered. "It has been a while." Of course she had known what he meant, but she hadn't been able to push back the nonchalant tone from echoing through her lips. Why she was allowing her fear to take over was out of her control; all she wanted to do was be as close to the boy as she could, let him kiss her, wrap his arms around her while they spoke about nothing and everything at the same time. Why was that so hard?

Stiles noticed, of course, which made him push back the sigh that wanted to escape him the moment she easily offered what would only be the most normal and _safe _thing to do together; and not even safe from danger, but safe for comfort. Studying together was something the two had done many times _before _their official first date, and he didn't want that. All he wanted was to be able to take the strawberry blonde out again; he wanted a second date, and a third and a fourth, and, well...

But it seemed like either she truly wanted him to spell it out for her or... _or she doesn't want any of that ever again. _Any date, any kiss, any... anything. Yet her touch upon his hand and her frame resting so closely against his told him something else entirely. And for the first time in what felt like _ever_, Stiles found himself incredibly confused by Lydia Martin. "Can we do something that doesn't involve studying?" He wondered. "I feel like if I study any more I truly will lose my mind." It was his way of hinting at another idea, because as long as she kept touching and resting against him, then there was no way the boy was going to give up on the idea of _them. _

_Something that doesn't involve studying, but something that's normal enough that could be like a date, except not really a date_. As much as she had really enjoyed the last one, Lydia seemed to be internally shutting down the idea of going on a second one. Well, she _did _want to go on another one, however her mind was doing that thing where it was going to pinpoint everything that could go wrong, and the more she did that the more she clung to the boy for comfort. She wanted to push that unnecessary fear away. "The mall?" She wondered, unsure if such a place was adequate at all. "We could go to the mall." She sneaked a glance at the boy, over examining his features to gauge every reaction he had to what she had spoken.

"The mall." It was only a means to echo her words with a little bit of disbelief, because that was exactly what was going on in his mind. Pure and evident disbelief over the girl's suggestion; not because it was strange, he was sure people went on dates to malls now and again (not that he would know), but because he was actually a little taken aback by the simplicity of the suggestion. It was such a Lydia thing to suggest, yet, with the right pushes here and there, it _could _turn into a good romantic date, _right? _Well, he could only hope. Regardless, he simply nodded his head once and looked into the girl's eyes. "Sure." He grinned. "The mall works."

"Okay." The sudden urge to apologise was on the tip of her tongue, yet when she was about to do it, nothing came out. All she could do was just look at the boy, hoping that he would understand that the whole thing was a lot harder than she realised it would be. He didn't want to talk about it, about anything having to do with the way she was feeling, so she pressed her lips together, trying to think of something that she could possibly say to make the tension that had snuck into their little bubble go away. "You haven't eaten yet." She stated.

He didn't exactly know what it had been; maybe the way her eyes looked into his with the weight of a thousand and one words, or the way her hand continued touching his and her frame remained as close to him as possible. Or maybe the way in which she attempted to change the subject into something a little less personal; maybe it was every one of those factors combined, but it had Stiles' eyes searching hers and attempting to express words solely with that adoring gaze. A look that was accompanied by a smile lifting the corners of his lips' and with a flicking look down her lips, he simply leaned a little closer, wishing to claim her lips with his, yet allowing her time to pull back if she wished to. "There's probably none of it left by now."

The way he had looked at her took her by surprise; not only was she acting strangely, at least she thought so, but she truly didn't think that the expression that crossed his features was at all merited. While his eyes searched hers she mirrored his actions to try to figure out what was happening, but the closer he got the more her breath momentarily stopped as her heart picked up speed. "None of what?" Her voice came out in a soft murmur, eyes furrowing in confusion while her brain blanked out over what she had been speaking about seconds prior. And before she could fully recollect the answer to what was said prior to her puzzlement, Stiles' lips were on hers, and her hand instinctively lifted to cup his cheek while attempting to pull him as close as she possibly could; placing in the kiss all the words that were pushing at her brain and drowning her with fear.

It wasn't important; he didn't want to answer her question, all he wanted was to stay there in the moment, kissing her and enjoying the manner with which she actually responded and moved closer, the way her hand rested on his skin, and in response his own moved to rest on her waist after leaning even closer. Ever since that kiss Lydia had initiated in their date Stiles had started taking small opportunities to kiss her again; so far they had been counted. While he gained some sort of confidence after that first kiss, he still had a speck of constant fear that she would just up and realise what she was doing and leave, regardless of if she was his friend or not. But then she would do things like she was at that moment, pulling him closer, responding so ardently and making the little confidence he'd started having grow a little more. It was what made his hand pull her a little closer; just a little, because even at such a point, he knew they were 'just testing the waters' as they said.

The only thing that Lydia wanted was to continue on like such, however she really didn't want his dad to walk in on them like he had that night of the first date; so, after she put a few quick pecks on his mouth, then one on his cheek, she reluctantly pulled back, finally allowing herself that breath that was held captive, only escaping in a long sigh; her hands, however, stayed in place for a few moments longer, to brush gently over the smooth line of the amber eyed boy's jaw. "We should probably study so your dad doesn't get too annoyed at me being here." She stated, lowering her hand until it rested on his chest. "Especially if he comes in to check up on what we're doing." She had to smile, lids fluttering in little blinks while she looked at the boy with nothing but a thank you to be conveyed in her clear hues. And Stiles didn't miss it; on the contrary.

Suddenly he felt thankful for the confidence she had brought upon him.

**To Be Continued.**


	10. Chapter 10: Strange Behaviour

Nothing had been different; truly, it was like any other Friday. He had woken up, showered, eaten breakfast, gotten in his Jeep and drove to school; but the difference that day for Stiles Stilinski, was that it was finally the day he wasn't grounded any longer; and even though the day basically was and had gone like any other, it felt different to him. As if the cloak of freedom followed him along with each step he took. It made him smile a little more, walk a little taller, he'd even kissed Lydia Martin as soon as he'd seen her because he'd been just in _that _much of a good mood. Because he wasn't only free, but he had a second date with the very same girl already planned.

It was why he'd been so cheerful regardless of if his last class that day had been calculus. The boy had actually slipped away with good enough time that he could go to his locker, leave and retrieve some books, _and _finally ran in the direction of Lydia's classroom to, as it seemed to have become his routine for the past few days (since the very first date they'd had, actually), wait for her class to be set free so he could see _her _once again. And he had made it; this time with only a minute to spare, and it made him be a little out of breath, but he breathed deeply a few times, sure that by the time the girl was out of her classroom he would be back to normal.

Meanwhile, inside the classroom, Lydia Martin attempted to not pay attention to the clock. It was Allison Argent's finger in her side that brought her attention up and away from the pages of the assigned class work. "Stiles is already waiting for you outside." She whispered in her ear, the smile clear in her words, making Lydia's eyes lift toward the little crack in the ajar door in order to see the out of breath boy leaning against the lockers.

She had taken up the closest chair to the door so she could be near it when it was time to leave; she also had wanted to see when the boy arrived, not that she would admit to that. "I know, Allison." She whispered back. "Thank you for your spot on observation." Inclining her head to give her friend a slight curling of her lips, Lydia nodded. Watching Allison's knowing look reciprocate her words along with an eyebrow raise that made the strawberry blonde roll her eyes, gather her belongings and wait for the bell to ring.

"This is your second date, isn't it?" Allison whispered as she placed her own stuff inside her bag, her eyes searching Lydia with a grin dimpling her cheeks. "So, do you like him?"

Lydia could feel her friend's eyes against the side of her head like a laser beam; it made her look away toward where the subject of their conversation stood; did she like Stiles? 'Like' was such a broad term, it had many definitions, it was very flexible. It could be used in many different ways, and she _had _come to like the amber eyed boy after being around him, but... "A lot of people like Stiles." She replied to Allison with a little rock-hard grin crossing her lips. "He's a likeable guy."

Lydia wasn't surprised to see Allison's eyes rolling shortly. "You know what I mean." She said, placing her arms around her bag and refusing to let her eyes fall away from Lydia's.

Should she feign innocence and pretend she didn't know what Allison meant? Or should she be honest with her friend already? Lydia couldn't decide before the loud echo of the ringing bell tooted against the classroom walls; so she simply lifted her shoulders in a shrug and stood up, striding out of the class toward an awaiting Stiles.

Outside, the boy let out a breath the moment the bell rung loudly, breathing relief that the time, which seemed to pass specially slow when he was waiting for someone, had finally come to an end. He had been worrying over the likeness of a date in the mall; would it be like the last time he accompanied her to a mall? Would she search to make their time together anything but romantic? Well, he didn't have much more time to think about it as he pushed himself away from his resting place against the lockers and turned to face his date's classroom's door, and as always, his heart seemed to leap out of its chest the moment she crossed the threshold. "Lydiaaaaa." He called, a hand lifting in a wave as equally excited as it was awkward, and it was accompanied by a smile in her direction.

As always, it was hard for her to keep the smile from forming on her lips; no matter what she did, there was always something that the boy did to cause her to shake her head at him and look amused. Not only that, but the sound of her name on his lips suddenly caused a warmth to spread through her frame; it was odd, how something could sound different when she felt more than before. It was not a feeling she was familiar with; not even with her ex, Jackson Whitmore. At least, with him, both parties had known most of the relationship had been for the sake of their reputation; at least at first. "Stiles." She greeted, elevating an arm shortly in order to wave back at him with a delicate wiggle of her digits, and pressing her lips together.

"Heeeey." A retaliating smile crossed his lips in reply to her own, his whole frame moving toward her after the way his name left her lips in such a familiar way. And, in all honesty, he had been expecting _something. _A hug, a kiss, even just the feeling of her hand on his; all due to the way in which, lately, one of those three were the usual greeting between them; but none of those things happened, and only a second after his worded greeting, her hand had fallen against his arm, and she was pulling him away from the hallway toward the main school doors; in the direction of the parking lot. "Oh, okay." He said, laughing nervously. "I guess we're leaving."

She had felt the urge to reach up to press her lips against Stiles', however, a whole plethora of things had stopped her; things she wasn't too sure of. "Mmhmmm. We are." She replied; the feeling was there, but the thoughts in her head kept her from going through with it. _How hilarious. _She thought, she was beginning to become overly nervous, overly scared. She didn't want to think of all the ways Stiles made her more aware of him near her, made her feel like everything had suddenly clicked, but she was, and it completely terrified her.

"Is there some sale I'm not aware of, or are you just really excited to spend time with me?" His slightly chuckling and nervous voice pulled her mind out of the trance she'd found herself stuck in, making her blink before she finally reached the main doors and pushed them with a determined hand. "'Cause you're acting like you're the one that just got out of a torturous grounding time."

_Maybe that's it. _She thought; now that Stiles wasn't grounded anymore, all she wanted to do was find a secluded area of the school in order to keep him all to herself for a short time, but she had told him they'd go on another date, and she w_anted _to do that, so she would. But there was something that made the fear in her mind remain. _It's just the mall. _She breathed, trying to not look back in his direction as they continued to move along. _Nothing has to happen. _Yet another voice inside her mind made her fully aware that she _wanted _something to happen. "Why wouldn't I be excited to see you?" She replied rather hastily with a short look in his direction. _Ugh. _She needed a place where she could distract herself by looking at clothes she didn't really need anymore; she had a whole closet full at home, yet apparently it was the only thing she could have thought of when the boy had asked her out again. "School isn't a very good place to have date, is it?" She just wanted to groan in frustration, out loud. She was feeling anxious about the date, yet that terrifyingly familiar fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach was making its cued presence; being close to Stiles brought that upon her. Her thoughts were telling her one thing, her heart another, and the feeling in her gut told her a whole other thing altogether; and it wasn't like she could really explain it to Stiles, since she had absolutely no idea how to put it into words, or even really what was even happening. She could do nothing but continue walking forward and pray that Stiles didn't notice anything of what was going on inside her.

But, as usual, the boy_ did_ notice. His head shook; even as he continued walking alongside the strawberry blonde, he wanted to just slip his arm up until it was his hand she was holding, but she made such an act almost impossible. Of course, he tried to not think too much about it; key word: tried. Because the banshee's words hadn't slipped in the usual tone she had taken upon as of late whilst talking to him, but in some sort of echo from a memory he probably would never forget about: when Lydia Martin barely even acknowledged his existence.

So he cleared his throat again, willing his mind to not slip into the wonderings of his subconscious fears and focus on the fact that the girl had _actually _called the occasion a _date _out loud already. That was one good point; at least until he realised that Lydia was leading him in the opposite direction of his car. "Lydia." He called, eyes flicking from the opposite direction to the back of the strawberry blonde's head. "Lydia!" He tugged on his arm gently in order to make her stop.

She did; she stopped dead on her tracks and turned around to look at him with a frown in the middle of her forehead. "What?" She wondered, head shaking and eyes searching his whole frame. _Do you want to cancel? _She wanted to ask, scared, searching his eyes for the feeling she was already too scared to find there._ Now that you have me you don't want me? _She expected him to say something to lead to such a conclusion.

"I'm driving this time." He said instead, a smile crossing his lips as his one free hand pointed in the direction opposite to where they were standing. "You said you'd let me drive on our next date last time, remember?" His eyes narrowed, making yet another fluttering feeling take over her stomach once again. "This is our next date, so I'm driving."

_Of course. _She had been so preoccupied with the things going on in her head that she had forgotten she had promised him that he would drive 'next time'. She never forgot anything; she liked to think that she had a good memory for small details, so when she had to be reminded of something she had said, she suddenly felt some sort of annoyed sting pull at her heart. "Fine." She said, nodding once. "You can drive." Painting on a smile for the boy's benefit, she let go of his arm, lifting her hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while chewing the inside of her cheek; it was irritating to know that she had let her feelings cloud her head, so she let out a sigh, leaned close against Stiles, allowed her hand to hold onto his the way she _wanted _to, and walked alongside him to lead the way to his Jeep.

He couldn't help it; a relieved sigh escaped his lips the moment the girl had actually stopped and allowed him the opportunity she had promised. Not only because he was actually going to be able to drive his car, but because not even a few moments later, her hand was in his and her frame close beside him. Stiles mentally fist pumped the air and thought a loud _YES; _yet, outwardly, he solely smiled for the banshee at his side and said, "Thank you."

The next thing was, of course, to lead her to his car; a task he did with pride and the ever-present smile, which remained even after they had reached the familiar blue Jeep, and he had lead his date toward the passenger seat in order to, of course, open the door for her. "Admit it." He said with that little proud grin. "You love this Jeep."

Shooting him a look, Lydia rolled her eyes while putting a hand atop of his shoulder in order to get up onto the seat in the Jeep; as if she didn't feel petite enough, she had to practically climb up into the passenger's side of the car and drop herself down as gracefully as she possibly could, all while making sure her skirt didn't give the boy a peep show. Huffing out a puff of air through her mouth as she buckled up, Lydia quickly glanced over at Stiles with a raise of her brows, then forced her gaze to look down at her perfectly applied manicure. "Yes, I do." Her tone dripped with sarcasm, only to hide the fact that she didn't hate his choice of transportation; mostly due to the fact that no matter where she was, no matter how much time passed, if she saw the vehicle anywhere in town, then she was most likely to know right away that it was him. "So very much."

He had heard the sardonic undertone of her words, hell, the sarcasm had almost bled from her lips, but that did not stop Stiles' own brims to smile and his whole demeanour to play along as if he thought her words were genuine, his own utterance slipping sarcastically in retort. "Of course you do." And after making sure she was safely sat inside, he closed the door for her.

Even if she was once again shaking her head, there was the smallest of smiles playing on Lydia's lips. Only he could return the sarcasm back to her just as well as she had handed it to him. He seemed to be the only person who could keep up with what she dished out, except, probably, for the moments when she pulled back. That was something that even _she _couldn't understand, so why would Stiles?

She never expected him to understand her, but he did; he knew her better than she knew herself, he called her out when she expected people to fall into place; he simply surpassed her expectations. Such a thing she was thinking when the Jeep's door opened opposite hers and the amber eyed boy climbed in, sat down, and closed the door, looking in her direction with that same smile that made the fluttering in her stomach return as his frame shifted in order to slip his arms off of his backpack straps before he could throw it toward the backseat. _What is happening to me? _She thought, watching him sit normally on his seat and drum his hands shortly against the wheel whilst looking right into her eyes. "Mall?" He asked, making some sort of knot form in the middle of her throat.

She didn't clear it away, she didn't gulp, she didn't even take a deep breath of any sort; she was Lydia Martin, she could hide her deepest sadness under ounces of make-up and a wonderful smile, why would she not be able to hide her sudden fear, annoyance and confusion the same way? She did; she nodded, shifting her eyes to look in front of her while a smile creeped into her lips. "That is what we planned, isn't it?" It was that same tone from before, the rock-hard one, the one that hid every single thing that resided on the butterflies fluttering about in the middle of her belly; she simply had to force herself not to think about it, not about his hands, or his smile, or his eyes, or how much she enjoyed their banter as one of the many things she didn't want to allow herself to even subconsciously acknowledge. She was scared, and she would simply push all those traitorous thoughts away until they became utterly impossible to ignore.

"As far as I know, yes." Meanwhile, at that very moment more than one emotion was running through Stiles' veins: joy, tremendous joy at being free to leave his house again, at Lydia beside him on the way to their second date, surprise at that latter as well, because it was the _second _date, because they'd exchanged many kisses since that unexpected first; worry, as always, that something was going to go extremely wrong and she would change her mind about the whole thing, hope that she wouldn't, and slight concern over the attitude she had displayed more times than one, that brought that strange sense of déjà vu into the amber eyed boy's mind.

Yet happiness seemed to overpower the rest; even with that ounce of worry pulling at his ever observant thoughts, happiness remained the biggest emotion in the pile; and, with that as his encouragement, he started off his Jeep, managing to get Lydia and himself out of the school parking lot safely, before he joyously drove to their agreed destination, and what he hoped to be able to make as wonderful a date as the first one had been.

**To Be Continued.**


	11. Chapter 11: Chasing Lydia

The mall had been a disaster; at least to Lydia. She hadn't been sure how to really behave when all she could think about was the manner in which Stiles' hand kept bumping into hers, and her fingers instinctively curled as if they were ready to be held by digits belonging to her best friend, except, instead of feeling the texture of skin, a spark ignited over her, as well as the tingle of her flesh and the intake of a breath that made her point in the direction of a brand new store with an excitement she was better at feigning than anything else. How one little gesture could make her _so _aware of their proximity continued to astound her. It made her feel as if the world was closing in on her, and she used the clothes that suddenly surrounded her to escape such a moment, to catch the breath caught in the middle of her throat and hope for the best in such a situation.

She'd thought she could do it, she'd thought that it would get easier the longer they had been walking through the shop, however she couldn't have been more wrong; every touch, every look, and every word that the boy gave her made her feel so much more than she could handle. It became puzzling; it always would chum in her brain how Stiles could do such a thing to her, how he was capable of doing so much without truly realising what was even going on.

Of course, it didn't help either than when he ate his after-shopping ice cream he'd gotten some on the corner of his mouth, and without thinking, Lydia had swiped her thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, then lead it to her own to suck off the cold dessert. A nearly desperate grunt escaped her lips at the memory as her hand wiped over her face before she returned her eyes to looking out the window of the boy's Jeep while watching the rain drip down the cool glass. The air in the car was tense, and she found her arms wrapping around her middle, with a frown curving down the corners of her lips as she realised: she wanted to be closer to the boy, but she kept curling into herself, trying to get away. It was like she was thinking with one part of her brain while her body moved with the other without her permission; she couldn't stop it, though, it was getting harder and harder to really express herself, because the more the emotions invaded her, the more that rock-hard mask took over her whole being.

Of course, on the driver's seat, Stiles couldn't get the little frown and concerned expression away from his face regardless of the peacefulness of the rain beating against his windshield; mostly because of the dynamite-like tension making every breath and every movement seem like something could be set off. It had been awkward for him, the date. It had been strange and confusing due to the fact that any little gesture he attempted in the girl's direction was retaliated with a heavy air of rejection in some way or another. If he attempted to hold her hand she'd quickly move away with some excitement over a piece of clothing that, with years of watching her style, the boy highly doubted she actually liked. He actually started thinking he'd done something wrong, or that every single one of his fears was starting to come true in one heavy slap across his face, and Lydia was starting to regret having said yes to him. He'd become a little tense and a lot more frustrated; specially so during the ice cream incident. He wasn't going to lie; for a moment Stiles had actually found himself a little turned on at the motion of her finger in her lips, but truly seconds later he'd become only confused. Hadn't she been pushing him away during the whole date in some form or another? And then suddenly she did _that?!_

Well, it had bothered him, and for what felt like the millionth time since their first date, Stiles actually felt unsure and confused about what she wanted. It was exactly what hung around both their necks like horrid nooses of assumption regardless of the music coming from the old radio of the car; the tension was many times louder than the notes from those songs. And he'd been dying to speak, to say anything, but the way she looked away from him made Stiles that more nervous. But he cleared his throat, lips tightening onto a line, brow creasing and a heavy breath escaping him.

The silence was killing them both.

Every movement, sound and huff of breath could be heard; both of them noticed everything without making a sound about it. Lydia didn't want to talk about what was happening, so she pretended to not see what was going on. Stiles was worried over the possible reaction she could have, so he pretended he couldn't feel the tension cutting at his throat like the sharpest of knives.

She was good at pretending there wasn't a problem; much like he did, she could ignore it until eventually it went away or the person gave up on her. _Maybe that's what Stiles will do. _She thought, taking the quietest of breaths as she continued on looking out the window. She hid the storm brewing inside of her, making a mockery of her perfectly applied mask; maybe the weather was making a mockery of her as well. Perhaps it was a sign telling her to do something, let it out, but she couldn't do that. She wanted to; she did, but she also couldn't keep the mask from staying, it was stuck on too tightly; however there Stiles was, with his concerned visage and dark hues, always looking at her like he saw beneath the facade; which he did, of course.

That's why it frightened her, how well he knew her and didn't simply run in the other direction. How could she actually make a list of all the things she liked about the boy? He infuriated her, but he also made her smile more than she'd ever smiled before. And she guessed he must have reached a point in which the silence became unbearable, because before she even realised what was going on, he had puffed out another breath and spoken in her direction. "Alright, Lydia. What's wrong?"

There it was; the question that invited her to open up as frighteningly as she dared. But the tone in which she spoke to him was devoid of the true nature of her feelings; it was calm, collected, and perhaps a tad too cheery. "Nothing." She smiled with a flutter of her lids. "Nothing is wrong, why would it be?"

"Lydia." He sighed, forcing his eyes to return to the road; lest he allow his frustration to lead them both toward a car crash. The breath that escaped him was loud, exasperated, frustrated, flaring his nostrils in the process and his thumbs to drum absently against the wheel. "You've been acting weird from the moment I saw you, goddamn it." He said. "What's going on?" For only a few moments he allowed his eyes to flicker in her direction; met only by a silence that made him have to force his sight away from her once again. In his mind all he could do was run through everything that had happened in the past week; the dates, the kisses, the hugs, the manner in which she'd kept close to him more times than not.

Until the mall.

"Did I do something wrong?" It was a question that echoed with the same frustration as before, frustration at not understanding, at feeling wrong, at feeling like he was being played with and would be rejected at any moment. Among other things, namely, frustration over Lydia's eminent silence.

A silence that continued as Lydia's mind turned in circles over the boy at her side. She knew it wasn't right to make anyone worry the way she was doing to him; he was blaming himself, that much was clear. He was probably coming up with different scenarios, and each was probably worse than the last. Yet all she could think of was the one thing that stood out to her like a sore thumb; she never really thought about it, because seeing him there made her heart leap up into her throat. She wanted to ask; if she were to chance a glance in his direction would it all come crumbing down or could she hold those walls up until she was able to voice her inquiry? Would she be judged for it? It was such a stupid thing to want to know that she wasn't sure how to go about it.

But even if she wanted to voice something the words still wouldn't leave her lips, they were stuck in her throat; maybe they were pinned by the weight of her heart, so all she could really do was shake her head from side to side in hopes that he would know he was innocent of fault in all of it. That it was her who was the culprit.

Though he got his short answer the silence remained. It made the droplets of rain falling against the windshield and the front of his car echo the loudest; it made the tension in the car _feel _the strongest, and even though his eyes shifted in her direction a couple of times only to realise the shake of her head was the only response he'd receive, he became the more frustrated. Because he couldn't figure it out; for once he couldn't even come close to figuring her out, and it made his hands grip the wheel a little righter. "Then what?" He prompted. "Come on, Lydia. Talk to me." He didn't even know how his voice escaped his lips in such a relaxed manner; or not really relaxed, for the frustration echoed from his words still, but they did escape in a tone as soothing as his vexation would allow, because it had been clear from the moment he saw her that there was something not so okay with her; it became even more obvious as the day went along. And he wanted to help, somehow, someway; if only he could make Lydia _speak. _"What's wrong?"

"Why..." Pressing her lips together, Lydia's eyebrows furrowed as her gaze travelled down to stare at her intertwined digits; it felt preposterous, when did she ever get so anxious? When was she ever unable to form a coherent sentence? She always had a retort on the tip of her tongue, yet she couldn't get a simple question out; such a thing made less sense than her behaviour. She felt like she was drowning. "Why do you wait for me outside my classroom?" The words stumbled out of her mouth in a hurried inquiry; she needed to know, she needed an answer, she just needed to know why he went out of his way to do something that could be easily prevented by meeting up near the school doors or somewhere more accessible to the boy, but he had ran to her classroom in a flurry of limbs, probably unable to catch his breath for the whole past week. She knew he wasn't the most athletic, so why would he run when he had no need to do so?

Of course, for the boy the words that left her lips only made his confusion grow and he remained quiet, staring at the windshield and the wipers as they shifted from side to side, and the road. And he didn't stay silent only because he didn't exactly know what to reply, but also because her question echoed in his mind with that same confused undertone. Why? Why... What kind of question was- "I don't—I don't know, I just... do." This time it was his turn to frown, to be confused and quiet, yet still frustrated and nervous because Lydia simply didn't make much sense all of a sudden. _Is this why you're upset? _"Do you want me to stop doing it?" Maybe he'd overwhelmed her without realising it, maybe he'd crowded her and she didn't—

"I never said that." She admitted, still looking out the window. All she wanted to know was why, because for some reason she couldn't fit the pieces of what he did together, it had been a constant question in her head; not that she didn't like seeing his figure standing there when she looked out into the hallway, it was just that she couldn't understand it. This pale, lanky, uncoordinated person who could set her skin ablaze with a small, simple caress of his thumb against the back of her hand, or make her heart flutter with just one look or stupid little smile. He was the one who made Lydia question things, especially herself.

She sighed softly, making Stiles' frown slightly deepen as her hand lifted to pinch the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She simply hoped they would get to their destination quickly, because she needed to get out of the car; too much was going on, in her head, in her heart, and she could feel herself slowly unravelling. "Then why do you ask?" He wondered, and Lydia could hear the frustration in the inquiry, she could hear the rain outside fall stronger against the windshield, she could hear the wipers swinging like a metronome at full speed.

"Stiles..." Her head shook, her hand lowering away from her features and her eyes studying the quick trails of the drops against the window on her side. Why had he replied with a question? How could she go from thinking about those nice little things he made her feel to suddenly wanting to strangle him with one of her new designer belts? _No, something else. _She wasn't about to ruin a perfectly nice purchase just because she was a little exasperated with Stiles. "I don't think you're aware of what a question is." She expressed, looking at him with the corner of her eye. "You know? When a sentence is worded or expressed so as to elicit information?" The tone with which she spoke remained riddled with her irritation; all she wanted was an answer to her question so she could understand the thoughts that led the boy forward so strongly toward her. Maybe she was being irrational, but she couldn't let it go; she _had _to know, she had to, in hopes that it would help with the feelings that built and threatened to drive her up the wall.

An expression as exasperated as her words seemed to mirror across his features when he turned in her direction again. Maybe it was wrong of Stiles to suddenly be so frustrated, but, in his defence, Lydia's demeanour had seemed to very suddenly, and quite confusedly, change in the manner of only a day. "Why do I—" He allowed a breath of frustration to escape in an exhale. "Lydia, I don't _know_, alright?" He admitted. "I don't think about it as much as you seem to." And it was true; he had a million and one reasons for his actions, he knew he did. But to put them all into one easy answer for the girl? It was nearly impossible. "Why _do _you think so much about it?" He nearly regretted the question as soon as he'd asked it, for Lydia exhaled a breath almost as exasperated as his had echoed.

"Pull over." She suddenly said, unable to pull back the horrid frustration that echoed through her words after the usual tactic of closing her eyes and counting to ten had gone for naught.

"What?" He hadn't been able to stop the frown that deepened in the middle of his forehead as his eyes flicked in her direction.

"Pull over! I'd like for you to pull over." It wasn't working, and regret weighed heavy on her tongue as well as her chest. He didn't get it, she needed to put some space between them before she did something stupid like have a full-on break down within the confines of his car. She couldn't do that, not now, or hopefully ever; for it was all so completely different from all those other times that had been Banshee related reasons; it was far more personal.

"What do you-?!" He was unable to stop his tone from raising in pitch at the even stranger request, looking in her direction again for a second more. "Lydia, it's r_aining _out there." He stated almost stupidly, but his confusion got the best of him, because even though he wasn't sure why she wanted him to stop the car, regardless of if her request made next to no sense, he actually started slowing the car down a little.

"I'm aware of that, Stiles." It took the girl another moment to gather herself together, which, when she thought about it, made the whole matter even worse. She didn't want to look like a mess, yet by doing so she ended up worrying over how Stiles would perceive her; she didn't want him to think she was going crazy again, regardless of if she was, regardless of if it was a situation much more different and much more human than the one she had been stuck on before. "Just do it." She didn't want him to notice, but it was too late; it was too late and it was Stiles, her curse was that he noticed pretty much everything.

Stiles became instantly worried, because he could see, even through his little vexation, that Lydia seemed to be on the verge of what he almost instantly recognised as a panic attack, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what was happening. "What's _wrong?!_" Well, he _did _know that he was most likely not helping at all.

A feat that was confirmed the moment her loud words echoed inside the car in a high and thundering "Stop the car!" as her hand wrapped tightly on the handle of her door. "Right now!" She demanded, not even daring a look in the boy's direction.

He sighed, though, of course he sighed; it was all he could do while considering her request. He wasn't going to say no, of course, but the _rain. _She would get soaked, and then... how could that be any better? His head shook, but not because he was saying no to her, but because he had truly become frustrated with his lack of ability to help her. "Fine." He said, and just as quickly as the word had left his lips, Stiles stepped on the brake pedal of his Jeep; which skidded to a stop slightly slower than usual due to the extremely drenched floor; making both Lydia and the boy bounce slightly forward in their seats. And then they were still; completely frozen, with the sound of the rain against the roof and hood of the car tooting like white noise from the outside.

Not even a second after he'd stopped Lydia had opened the door and stepped out into the downpour; at least the rain had quieted the drumming of her heart against her ears, however it didn't stop the way that her chest constricted. She didn't want to leave Stiles in such a way, but she needed to breathe, she needed to pull herself back together before she was able to return to his side. _I can do this, _she thought, the way she always did. She could always sewed her seams up, always stitched up the mask back into place; she knew she'd have to come up with a way to explain everything to Stiles, except... she was sort of expecting him to understand somehow, even if _she_ didn't.

Without a destination in mind, Lydia moved away from the Jeep, trying to put some space in between her and the other boy as she started thinking that maybe she wasn't ready for the situation, maybe she wasn't capable of it. She wasn't really sure of anything except for the way she even felt when Stiles was around her, or even when he wasn't; though she couldn't put it into words, or begin to take control of the situation. It was why she decided to run away from it, to allow the coolness of the rain soothe her heated skin while she attempted to put her thoughts together in one way or another before she had to face the boy once again.

A boy that wasn't at all surprised when she stepped away from the car, making his frustration and confusion only grow. "Lydia!" But it was too late; the door had opened and closed quicker than he'd been able to react to, and then she was somewhere almost blurred away by the rain. His head shook; worried, bewildered, and annoyed all at once because he wanted to understand, he wanted to know what bothered the girl so strongly to bring upon such a reaction, and above all, he wanted to protect her. So he sighed again, not even allowing himself to think twice about it before he forced his own door to open prior to jumping out of his car; actually sort of surprised that he'd taken such a long time to do it. He closed the door behind him, and not even two seconds after stepping into the rain, he was completely soaked. "Lydia!" He called again, moving in her direction with a frown invading his forehead; his hair instantly sticking to his forehead, and by the time he was able to step a few feet away from her, his clothes were basically pasted to his frame. "Please talk to me." Why was that the only thing he could bring himself to say?

She wasn't at all surprised to hear his voice behind her; she knew he'd follow. There was a part of her that hoped he wouldn't, because it would mean that he truly was like any other guy she had even taken home with her; but it was Stiles, she knew him, she knew he most _definitely _wasn't like all the other guys. And she thought that it was that very thought that scared her the most. "Just tell me why." She pleaded, turning to finally face him as her lips pressed together in a tight line and her fingers traded through her sodden tresses while trying to peel her gaze away from the boy standing in front of her. Bringing her hand to press delicate digits against her eyes, Lydia let out yet another sigh that averted her eyes to stare at the ground; she wasn't going to let him distract her from the answer she wanted. There was something about the question that she just _needed_ to hear, something about the wonder over how he didn't lose interest that she simply couldn't attempt to grasp. She wanted to understand, she wanted to stop being afraid, she wanted her mind to butt out already. She just wanted—

"Why what!?" He interrupted her thoughts and made her eyes nearly roll with the feigned ignorance that he suddenly attempted to convey. But he knew what she was asking of him, regardless of if it looked otherwise, and he sighed again because of it. All he could hear for a few moments was the heavy rain washing the whole world clean; droplets against the ground, against the Jeep behind him, against his own wet clothes as he stepped inches away from the strawberry blonde; thinking, looking in her direction with frustration and even a hint of fear within his eyes. Fear of what she asked of him. Confusion was evident in his features; he simply didn't understand what had her asking such a thing, making her act like a version of her he hadn't seen in what felt like ages. "Why?" He echoed uselessly while his eyes searched hers as if the answer to her own question hid within her pleading hues. Stiles' own blinked repeatedly as he shook his head from side to side shortly, simply letting the rain drown him as he attempted to find the right words to speak in reply to her strange question. "Lydia, I don't—" He was going to say he didn't know, but if he did even _he _would be frustrated. Once again his head shook, soft droplets falling from the tips of the hair that stuck to his forehead all the way down to his lips, jaw locking as wet brims pursed in thought. "Lydia, I don't know. I don't really think about it, I mean..." He couldn't help it; though his hands reached for her, a frustrated breath left his lips when he didn't find the right words, because he didn't want to scare the girl away. "What do you want me to say?" He wondered instead with a tone to echo her own pleading motion.

"I don't know." Her words were harsher than she meant them to be, but he boy's inability to give her a proper answer was beginning to grate on her nerves; what did he mean he didn't know, anyway? What kind of answer was that? Of course he knew, he had to. There was no way he didn't; he had to want something, he had to _expect_ something, right? He had to await for some sort of repay more meaningful than just a kiss, maybe she should just get it over with, take him to an empty classroom, give him the time of day and let him go in his merry way the way everyone else did. But... maybe she was wrong; this was Stiles; maybe he didn't have a second goal under his sleeve, maybe his intentions were genuine, maybe he wasn't like everyone else, maybe... "Maybe I just want the truth." For the first time since the whole ordeal had started she allowed her voice to falter, showing just how much the situation was really effecting her. And it continued to do so; even now, because as she was standing there with some sort of emotion begging upon an answer, her fingers itched to reach out and trace over the contours of the face she now deemed one of the most handsome, she wanted to reach and kiss those lips that shone with the droplets that rested against them and fell to the material of his shirt. But she also wanted to push him away until he cleared her own mind for her somehow.

His eyes searched and studied her, though; watching her own sparkly orbs plead for understanding, plead for an answer, an explanation; all he knew was that she asked, and he had to somehow find it inside himself to come up with, not only the words, but the courage to reply with candour. Locked jaw softened, and his lips parted as if he were to speak... Only the words got caught in his throat; even as he watched her in front of him, each fibre of her being yelling at him to speak already. "Lydia... how?" It was now that his own voice begged. His eyes looking into hers, watching the way the little droplets of water stuck to her lashes and made them fall against her cheeks as if they were tears put there by nature. But, as it turns out, Stiles was scared too, because the words he wanted to speak... they could make or break the relationship between the two, and he didn't know if he could just so easily lose her before he truly even had her. "I just—"

"Nevermind." She interrupted, eyes falling defeated toward the soaked ground that sparkled with the promise of new droplets. Part of her had been waiting for that moment, the moment when Stiles choked and gave her some lame excuse as to why she didn't need to know the why, that it wasn't important. She'd been ready for it, she'd always expected the disappointment, especially when she let herself show a little bit of vulnerability; she was always shown that it was her fault.

Hell, she even waited for the boy to blame _her _about being in the rain, that he would get sick; and she would admit as such, that it _was _her fault, and she would even offer to take on the role of nursing him back to health if the occasion presented itself; she was already looking away, she was all ready to hear how he wasn't able to explain himself; and if he truly thought that the way he suddenly reached his hands for hers helped in the least then he was wrong; or at least she made it seem so, because she truly was readying every fibre of her being for the worst; no matter how much she could feel the heat spreading throughout her face and up her arm, how the beat of her heart was beginning to speed up and overpower the sound of the storm. She was going to speak, to tell him that it was fine, that he could just forget it, that it wasn't important and they could just head back home.

But then he actually started to speak.

"Goddamn it, Lydia, how?" He started, a frown adorning his features as his eyes focused on her own nearly defeated expression. "How do you want me to explain that I love being around you?" He asked. "That during that class I know is my last before I see you I _literally _count the minutes; something I'm surprised I can even do, by the way; until I can see you again? How can I _possibly_ explain that I love to hear you laugh or speak, or _anything, _really? Or the way I simply don't give a flying crap if my feet hurt and I'm out of air by the time I reach your classroom because I know that soon after I'm going to get to see you, or hug you, or _god_, or kiss you." Soft hues remained on Lydia's shocked features as he continued, speaking all the emotions he couldn't possibly describe with words. The white noise of the rain became the only audible thing for a couple of seconds before a defeated sigh escaped through Stiles' wet brims when he realised that every single ounce of fear had been pushed back, and he was truly telling Lydia Martin everything he had been scared of speaking due to the fact that it could end up scaring her away for some reason or another... and how now that he had started he simply couldn't bring himself to stop. "Or how I think you're beautiful," he continued. "With or without all those layers of make-up you put on sometimes. When you talk to me about some subject you love, and you get a little dimple at the lower part of your cheeks when you smile, or how your eyes just automatically light up at the promise of new shoes. Hell, it's all sorts of boring to me, if I'm being honest, but the way you get excited over clothing... I could watch you shop for hours and never be bored... which... sounds much crazier said out loud than it did in my mind, I'm sorry." The girl actually laughed, eyes sparkling with the ghost of brand new tears and making him smile in retaliation. "I just..." His head shook; jaw locking once more the moment he suddenly found himself unable to go on; he begged her with his eyes, his hands, that had moved to brush wet locks of hair from sticking to her face, or even his lips, which pressed together in a line as he attempted to let her see the truth behind his words.

But she already had; at first it had been hard to look at him, but the grin across her lips remained regardless of the downpour of emotions that only mirrored the storm that fell around them. The funny thing was... she recognised the things he said as mirror of things she felt toward him, and it was too much to take at once; however, she braved it, and she allowed herself to lock eyes with the only boy who was able to make her feel fireworks in the middle of a torrential tempest. And while he searched her hues for any sort of sign that maybe he shouldn't have spoken what he did, Lydia Martin realised that she was scared; truly, the unknown seemed to scare her more than any voices in her head. Because it was Stiles, and he was nice, and he cared, and he wanted to make sure she was okay; his face seemed twisted with worry, with fear of his own, with concern over the strawberry blonde. "Please..." He spoke again, making Lydia's full frame freeze up with anticipation. "Just come back with me to the car," He requested, "I don't want you to catch a cold. I'll just drive you home and leave you forever if that's what you want me to do, but just come ba—" But his words were cut off before he could finish them, for Lydia's feet pushed her forward, running, literally, the few steps that separated her from Stiles until her frame had crashed against his in an urgent kiss; the frown remained on her forehead, the thoughts continued to burn a hole inside her brain, but she pushed them back, she forced them away while attempting to communicate through her grip on his hair and the urgency of her kiss every single word she couldn't speak, every strike of fear that powered her insides into the insanity moments before, every negative feeling. Because it was Stiles, because he had been there for her longer than anyone ever had, because she should have realised sooner that there was no reason she should doubt his intentions due to the simple and non-explained fact that he was Stiles Stilinski.

His body reacted faster than his mind did, for his arms ended up wrapping around her frame before his eyes even shut, lifting her, turning his frame in place and hanging onto the feeling of her arms tightening around him, a motion he returned along with her kiss, because the message came across loud and clear, Stiles recognised the difference of their contact. Not the way a werewolf would, with scents and sounds, but because he recognised the urgency that united their lips so intimately. Of course, moments later she pulled away; feet planted on the ground once again; the tears on her eyes masked by the rain that had soaked both their frames completely. "You're insane." She said, holding onto him, looking into his eyes, whishing she could let him know with words what she only remained able to express with the soft touches of her digits against his skin.

And though the boy didn't know if her words were good or bad, making a confused grin curve his lips upward, he welcomed her touch and proximity completely, regardless of the manner in which they were both literally soaked from head to toe. "Yeah," He nodded, "I thought we'd established that when I started running with werewolves, don't you think?"

It made her smile, allowing a short amused scoff of a breath to escape her lips before they met his one more time, gently, though still urgently. The pressing of their lips, combined with the manner in which he held her, expressed all the other things neither of them could truly speak, whether for fear or for denial, it didn't seem to matter.

For it was all there, floating in the air above their heads as both teenagers so tempestuously kissed under the washing cry of the October rain.

**To Be Continued.**


	12. Chapter 12: Angelic Scream

"You know, when I told you we should talk, I didn't mean in the middle of the woods whilst in the look-out for danger, right, Scott?" Stiles asked his friend, eyes narrowing shortly in his direction the moment they both exited his Jeep; more like stumbled, in his case.

It was late; very late, actually, but the boy had not made the same mistake twice. This time, Stiles had actually let his dad know he was going to be out late. With Scott. "We're not looking for danger." He said, correcting his friend. "We're looking for _clues._" There was a heavy bright moon shining as their guidance, complimented, in Stiles' case, with a flashlight he had demanded to carry due to the fact that his very hundred percent human senses didn't in the least allow him to see in the dark like Scott's red hues of horror did. Regardless; there they were, walking in the middle of the woods, apparently searching for clues.

After having left Lydia home with the promise of drying up, and arriving at his own home, Stiles had called his best friend to tell him that he had some stuff to talk about; something he agreed to do after the offer to follow a lead he thought he had about the so called animal attacks; so called, because apparently while Lydia and Stiles had been out and about in their own version of a chick-flick, Scott and Allison had been doing their own thing; keeping their two friends in the dark solely because of the fact that they both knew they were on a date, and according to them it was 'long time coming'. And though Stiles a_greed_ with such a statement, he also didn't quite strongly appreciate being kept in the dark about the fact that those animal attacks his dad had so soulfully told him had nothing to do with the supernatural, _clearly _did (though Stiles wasn't about to complain, he'd gotten time with Lydia, what else could he have asked for?).

So, to go ahead with his and Allison's theory, Scott had thought it smart to search the woods for some clues. And since it was Scott, apparently he didn't want to skip school the next day to search for whatever they were looking for was, the next obvious option had been the middle of the night. _Of course. _"Does anyone even know we came here?" Stiles heard himself asking as they both stepped a few ways away from the car, phone and flashlight in hand.

"I told Isaac." Scott said with a quite satisfied tone.

And Stiles truly had to do everything in his power to not just stop in his tracks, because... "Isaac?" A scoffed breath left his slightly parted lips as his head shook. "You're trying to tell me that if something or someone murders us tonight, scarf boy would be the only one to know we're missing?" _Great. _He thought.

"I told Allison too." He allowed. "But we're looking for something, Stiles." Scott reminded him. "Not some_one._" He smiled, his eyes falling toward the ground in front of him once again. "We're going to be okay."

Stiles had to shake his head, fighting back a sardonic chuckle from escaping him. "Says the alpha werewolf with inhuman superpowers." Scott breathed out a laugh. "What are we looking for, anyway?" The only sound as the two friends walked were their steps crushing leaves under them along with a few crickets throwing their matting calls to the air. "I mean, I know you said clues, but what kind?" Of course Scott had told Stiles most of what he and Allison had discovered; apparently a _lot _of blood was involved; yet the boy still couldn't completely understand the purpose of their tour to the forest.

"Marks, a scent, the missing blood. Anything that could help." The wolf announced. And as they walked, somehow, Scott actually found it in him to ask him, regardless of what they were both doing at that moment, about what had happened in the date with Lydia Martin; and, well, if Stiles was helping his friend and he didn't expect any danger, why not just enjoy and kill the time by speaking about that which he'd wanted to speak to him about in the first place?

Meanwhile, somewhere in Beacon Hills, Lydia Martin had sat on a couch in Allison Argent's home; the sounds of a romantic film echoing from the speakers along with the crunching of chips inside their mouths. The first thing she had done when Stiles had left had been to take a shower, change her clothes, and the texted her best friend about the revelation in the earlier time she had spent with the boy; and Allison, being herself, demanded that she went over to her home to give her every detail, because, so far, they hadn't really spoken about it, since Lydia had been so confused and trying to brush it off instead, as if it was nothing.

Well, it wasn't nothing any longer, it was something; something so good that she swore she must have had that expression on her face that she saw on her best friend when they were together, or even when they spoke about one another. So she had made a promise that she would sleep over at Allison's house so they could watch chick-flicks, eat junk food, and talk about the guys currently in their lives. After all, it wouldn't be so bad to listen to her best friend's dulcet tones go on about how Scott had taken her out on a date as well, that he had gotten her something adorable, or that _he _was adorable himself. Lydia, of course, feigned annoyance at her exuberance, however it was kind of contagious, and she couldn't help smiling, or nodding her head in understanding, because she now knew how it felt; sort of. It was just the beginning for her and Stiles, although if their beginning was that intense, then she was as much scared as she was excited for the future; that is... as long as she didn't have any sort of irrational freak out over the intensity of her feelings once again, because they were something she had never experienced before. Fortunately for her, she had her best friend to help her through it, because she knew very well what it all was like.

A best friend who attempted to hide subtle hints that something was bothering her, and Lydia wanted to ask her what was going on, however, as much as she could tell something was wrong, she could also tell Allison didn't want her to know something was even going on. Obviously, she _did _know, she was her best friend, which meant she knew every single one of her tells; tells like the tight line her mouth became at that very moment, as well as her periodically shifting frame underneath the blankets when she thought Lydia wasn't paying attention. "Do you need me to pause the movie?" She wondered, watching Allison's eyes almost immediately widen and her hand lifted to cover her chewing mouth for a few moments before forcing a smile onto her lips and shaking her head.

"No, no. I'm fine." The short haired girl told her. "It's okay." Reaching for another snack from the bag she nodded, moving closer to her friend and smiling that grin that lit her whole face with the dimples that showed for it.

Lydia's eyes almost rolled, but she shrugged her shoulders, popping a few cheesy chips into her mouth while side-eyeing her friend; if there was something wrong, then she wanted the girl to know that she was there for her. On the other hand, she wasn't going to force Allison to tell her, even if her curiosity was burning within her. "Fine, whatever you say." She knew it was probably about Scott, in any case. About his 'special abilities', or about how he was coming to terms with being an Alpha. And she also knew that her friend was bound to cave eventually; but sooner or later, her patience began to fizzle out, because by the time the movie had ended Lydia still didn't know what was bothering Allison enough to so suddenly pull her friend toward her bedroom with hopes of sleeping.

Of course, she had kept an eye on Allison all the way down the hallway; only letting it slide until the moment they were both tucked under the covers. "Alright." Lydia finally said, eyes narrowing toward her friend. "I know you, Ally." She simply stated. "I know you know something, so you might as well tell me."

This time she was stuck; she couldn't get away, or make up some excuse about how it was nothing to worry about, and she knew it. Because Lydia had been watching her very carefully over the course of a few hours, pinpointing all of her nervous ticks, and both girls knew that Lydia knew them all very well. "Alright, fine." Allison finally said, resting on her side, and almost encouraging Lydia to do the same. "But I need you to promise me not to freak out."

Of course, those words alone were enough to make Lydia's eyes widen. "What is it?" She instantly wondered.

"It's Stiles and Scott." Allison admitted, biting her lower lip for a short moment, and nearly regretting when concern crossed over her friend's features. Clearly those words had not been the right way to approach the situation. "It's okay, there's no need to worry." She reassured her. "I mean, they're both out in the woods looking for clues, but they're okay."

Which loosely translated to the both of them doing something incredibly stupid, or getting caught by the Sheriff. "Great." Lydia expressed in a sardonic tone, a sigh escaping in a puff through her lips. "Your boyfriend is an idiot, and my..." She paused. "...Stiles, is a bigger idiot." Her lips pressed into a light line, puffing a scoffed breath through slightly parted lips.

"I didn't want to worry you!" Allison admitted, hugging her pillow. "You seem so happy now, especially after... you know." She smiled again, those dimples of hers showing once again and making it basically impossible for Lydia to remain angry with her.

Still, though she was smiling, she feigned annoyance with a roll of her eyes and pressed her cheek against the pillow. "Goodnight, Allison." She mumbled, and did not at all miss the short breathed laugh that escaped her friend the moment her eyes shut. She was going to try to sleep; to hopefully not worry about Stiles, the very, _very _human boy that she had seemed to have become attached to regardless of if she wasn't too sure about the status of their relationship.

But that was a conversation for another day.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-

"So you're together now?" Scott asked, his eyes away from Stiles and toward the trail –that only _he_ seemed to know– whilst looking for something, _anything _that could actually aid them in figuring the problem out.

And as they continued walking, Stiles found himself suddenly wondering the same thing. Were Lydia and him together now? "I think so." It came out more as a question in the end, and he wasn't too happy about it due to the things he had told her hours prior, and the way they simply acted around each other. Kissing, hugging, holding hands under the table; friends didn't act like that, did they? And he was going to voice such thoughts with the same confused demeanour that seemed to have become his latest friend, when suddenly the loud noise of a branch breaking in half echoed from somewhere behind both boys. It made the two stop in their tracks and turn in place, his phone's flashlight and Stiles' own pointing in the same direction in attempts to figure out the source of the disruption. "You heart that, right?" He wondered out loud, not even daring to look in his friend's direction due to the fact that he didn't want to miss any sign of anything that could make a sudden movement in the darkness.

"Yeah." Scott confirmed, and only two beats after the lone word, another loud noise echoed from the exact opposite side the artificial light illuminated. It made Stiles flinch and stumble to point the light in that new direction; something the wolf had done as well with a lot more grace than his human friend had. "Hello?" Scott called.

Something that only managed to make Stiles' eyes immediately look in his direction with a _how are you an alpha werewolf?! _look of disbelief and the shortest and most nervous of scoffed breaths puffing from his lips. "What the he—. Come on." His hands fell to his sides, palms pointing outward when his friend looked in his direction again. "Rule number one of horror films, Scott:" He announced, lifting his free hand with his index pointing upward. "Don't call out a 'hello?' after some mysterious sound, unless you wanna get killed." He shook his head. "Maybe we should get out of h—" But that's as far as his words had gotten, for the very same sound from before echoed in their direction once again, only much closer. Right on top of them, in fact.

The creaking of wood being forced to split in half.

"Run!" Scott yelled, and Stiles did. Because if they didn't run, well, there would have been a horribly sized alpha and human tortilla to be found in some soon future on the forest ground. All they could do was run in the direction of Stiles' Jeep; and they had, they'd ran, but the sound of breaking branches continued from around them in an impossibly quick pace; too quick for whatever _it _was that was forcing such actions from the trees to be only _one _thing.

And that's how Scott and Stiles had gotten separated.

Branches started falling on top of them, and both boys thought of going in opposite directions, and... well, as mentioned before, Scott had been the only one who'd known the trail they had embarked on. They had both been too concerned over the falling branches that all they had accomplished had been to get, not only separated, but, in Stiles' case, _lost. _

Of course the boy had known what direction to run to; toward the _Jeep_; but how was Stiles supposed to move on the same direction when tree branches were falling from the sky to squash him like a bug if he continued in that very direction? "Stiles?!" He heard from somewhere.

He stopped running; mostly because of the sound of his name, but also because of his _breath. _God, was he out of breath; his heart was beating so quickly, yet he was still able to stand upright, for adrenaline pumped through his veins. "Scott?!" He called, feeling as if the sudden silence was too loud, too eerie. It was as if he'd been thrown into a sound-proof bubble where the only thing he could hear were his jaded breaths and the echo of his heart against his ears.

And then he started running again; because once the falling branches were no more, Stiles had only one goal: finding Scott and getting to his Jeep.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-

For the longest time Lydia couldn't fall asleep without a strange feeling coming over her; like something was happening. Allison, on the other hand, had slipped into a steady breath beside her shortly after, her arm around her pillow, with such ease that the strawberry blonde almost started envying her quick sleep even though she had thought it would help her fall asleep as well; that focusing on her friend's breath and the manner in which she managed to make her feel safe would lull her to slumber, but it didn't, nothing helped.

How could Allison sleep so peacefully knowing that her boyfriend was out there doing God knows what in the middle of the night? Lydia sighed, closing her eyes once again and shaking her head more comfortably on her pillow. She had to rest; she had to sleep, think of Stiles safely sleeping in his bed so she could fall asleep and then be rested enough to visit the boy and yell at him for being an ignoramus, as well as not telling her that he was going to go out to be an idiot.

A sigh escaped her as she plunged into darkness.

At first there was nothing but the stillness surrounding her, the quiet breathing of her best friend beside her as well as the feeling of her body slowly becoming lax and warm from the covers encasing her. At one point, there was a random noise off in the distance, some creaking noise she couldn't hear well, but then Lydia finally felt the worry dissipate and the thoughts from the last few weeks slip into her mind; she thought about the gentle touches, the pressing of skin upon skin which made things all the simpler to let slip away. Nothing mattered but the clear joy of past happenings coming through into her present; until the scene changed and the colour of crimson lashed behind her eyelids, shortly accompanied by the sparkle of pearl whites in sharpened points, grinning menacingly in the background...

_She wanted to call out, to say something, to stop whatever was happening, but she was stuck in place, she couldn't move. It was as if she was merely just a spectator at a movie, reaching for something that was out of her grasp; even the faces around her were blurry, only the shock of pale on pale stood out. That, and the whispers that were getting louder and louder, echoing menacingly over the manner in which 'the boy' was about to die, that he was about to give in to the darkness "...leave now, or he'll die" An angelic voice told her. The acrid stench of death filled Lydia's nostrils, suffocating her, tightening her throat, making it seem like something was crawling up the depths of her core, reaching out to pull her under. _

_She knew she needed to get out, to get away from the smell and get to whatever it was that was beckoning her forward with a finger crocked, like a siren. A lengthy digit attached to rotting flesh, although the more Lydia tried to stare at it, the pale skin shone with stolen life; life that slowly slipped away from her. She could hear the sobs filling her ears, feel the familiarity of that figure being changed from a bright hue to a dull gray. "Your friend is..."_

-O-O-O-O-O-O

"...almost dead." The voice of the girl said behind Stiles' barely conscious frame. He had sighed in relief the moment he had found Scott again; he'd guided himself with his voice and the light of his cellphone – thank God he hadn't lost it in the mayhem the way Stiles had lost his own flashlight. And then he'd stopped a few feet away from his friend, because once the relief started taking home in his whole frame, the adrenaline had started leaving, and the very human boy wasn't able to ignore his lack of breath any longer.

"_I told you this was a bad idea." _Stiles had said between pants; and that had been the moment in which he had started thinking finding his friend had been a little too easy; and also the moment in which he regretted it. _"Dude, what _was_ that back—"_ But the rest of his words hadn't been able to leave his lips, for the very strong and very tight hold of an arm against his chest had shocked his body out of air. He'd heard Scott's call of his name, loud and worried, but the next thing had confused him more than scared him.

He had felt whatever, or whomever, had been behind him press his back righter against its front, and the next second it had felt as if two tiny knives had been slowly puncturing his skin, followed by a bite. _What!? _Stiles had thought; and he would have ran, he would have fought, he would have done _something _if he had been able to, but he hadn't been. Slowly, he had felt noise all throughout his limbs; the kind one feels when one's hand or foot's fallen asleep, only everywhere. He'd felt weak, he had been able to hear Scott growling, but he had been able to see nothing. When had he closed his eyes? And then a noise had come; Scott must have moved, because the pressure against his neck suddenly disappeared. _"Stop!" _It had been a female voice; timbre like bells, so kind. The sort one would expect to hear coming from an angel; and it had come from the thing that Stiles had realised must have been the only thing keeping him upright. _"Stop, or I'll kill your friend." _It had said; and then a silence followed. One in which Stiles had imagined Scott steps away, glowing red hues and claws fully extended; only imagined, really. The boy had been too weak to even force his eyes to open; breathing alone had been a task.

And it still did; that had been how he had ended up there, pressed strongly against someone, unable to move, unable to speak. "You need to leave me alone and never look for me again." The girl now requested, taking a step back, and Stiles with her, something he only knew by the feeling of his feet brushing against the ground; and, for some reason, he could see her face speaking even behind his eyelids. He knew it was her face; it was like one of those dreams in which one sees themselves in a mirror, and it's not one's face, yet one _knows _it's them.

Stiles could see her just like that; she was so pale that the only way he could describe her was snow-white. Her hair was long, curly, and silver against the moonlight, and her eyes were the palest of greens. "You need to let him go." He heard Scott's voice reply. The boy couldn't understand anything, even though he wished to.

"I can't do that." She confessed with her angelic tone. "Not if you want him to live." She was smiling; behind his eyelids, Stiles could see the beatific image of the angel grinning in such a manner that it nearly made his heart stop. "He's almost dead, you see." She repeated, holding him tighter against her front; how he could even feel that was beyond him. "If I run, you will follow, and I will let him go and he will have only a one in a million possibility of survival; the odds meaning he is most likely to eventually die on his own." God, she was smart. Stiles almost hated himself for feeling impressed with the girl who was playing with his life. But then only managed to feel confused when he heard a sound he only had ever heard in the disgusting eating habits from his father, much like his own, really. Eating with their mouth open, chewing meat. It sounded completely wrong. "But if you leave right now, I will feed him my blood and he will survive." The girl nodded; the silence continuing for a few beats in which she must have seen Scott weighing his options, because as if with a brand new illuminating light bulb of an idea, she quickly added: "And I would think twice about attacking me, because if you even come close to trying..." She paused, her breath feeling like ice against Stiles' neck. "...I will drain him of the string of life he's holding on to, and you won't even have that one in a million chance of saving him."

More silence.

And Stiles wished he had the strength to speak, he wished he could tell Scott to not leave, to just end the angel's life, for that was truly the best description the boy had for her. But he could say nothing, he could barely even breathe. "Okay." Scott finally spoke, and Stiles wanted to scream at him that he was doing the wrong thing. He wanted to yell at him to not be an idiot, to not think about _him _when he could so easily end the whole thing and probably save the lives of a few other residents of Beacon Hills. "Okay, I'll leave." He said again, and then the echo of his steps crushing against the wet leaves tooted away. _Please, no. _Stiles pleaded in his mind, but all he could do was feel the pale girl behind him nodding against his flesh.

She breathed against his skin once again, and then something pressed against his lips. A soft, warm liquid slipping onto his tongue and down his throat. _No way,_ he thought, feeling as if every slow drop of what he assumed was the girl's blood entered his system. Slowly, warm, and _God, _so delicious. Stiles thought he heard himself moaning. _How am I even _enjoying _this!? _He drank, and drank, and slowly started feeling his limbs again; sharp, they even stung as if he'd slipped into a warm room after being out in the cold for hours; they even hurt. And the taste of the warm liquid exploded into his taste buds like honey and the most delicious mixture of flavours he'd ever tasted. He simply couldn't understand why, for, when his eyes opened, Stiles realised he was holding onto dear life to the pale arm of the girl who continued to hold him close against her, pressed against his lips like the most delicious candy; and then, just like that, it was gone. His lips parted, breathing in air that felt _too _fresh, the details on the leaves near him were _too _sharp; he could see the glistening of the rain drops caught on some fallen leaves, he could see a worm steps away sliming its way into the dirt, he could _smell _the rain on the trees, the soft perfume from the girl behind him. "Wha—"

"Shhh." The girl whispered against his ear, still holding him, with one hand against his chest, and pressing him against her front. "You're going to feel strange for a while." She informed him in a soft whisper. "But it will pass." He blinked; and every single time he blinked everything around him became clearer; impossibly detailed, actually. _Did I just drink _blood?!

And then, just like with the scarily high definition of Stiles' blinks, everything went back to chaos.

Scott had been nowhere to be seen, but Stiles could _smell _him; it was that familiar scent of sweat and cologne and, ironically enough, dog, that always stenched his best friend's bedroom under the Fabreeze his mother insisted on spraying. _Is this what it feels like to be a wolf? _Stiles wondered, _To smell everything so strongly? _Only... a new scent had come out of nowhere, from behind him; a mix of the same scents hinted with vanilla shampoo and a different mint cologne. All accompanied with the soft echo of growling from the same direction; that had been when Scott had appeared meters away, giving him a look that... _Why is he looking at me like that? _The pressure against his chest had disappeared, and he didn't even realise he'd taken a step forward, thus away from the girl, but then... "NOW!" He heard Scott screaming. And he should have ran; he knew that almost instantly, but he wasn't quick enough; he hadn't caught up as quickly as he should have, it was his fault.

All Stiles felt, after a few slow passing seconds, was the soft skin of the girl's hands against the sides of his face, and a horrible loud crack echoed against his ears just at the time that his face was so quickly forced in a flick to his side. And he fell.

Slowly; it felt all too slowly regardless of if he could hear the growling, biting, hissing, and shredding of flesh too quickly behind him; he felt the wet touch of the leaves and the dirt under every fibre of his being. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak, his cheek rested against the cool ground, his eyes fixated, blurred now, on the nearest tree; open. "No." He heard in a distant echo behind him, like a voice tooting from the furthest tunnel. "No, no, Stiles. No." And all he could think of was _Why must everything seem so wonderful before it gets worse? _Because images of Scott, of his dad, of Lydia kissing him passed through his mind. And then his mum. Her face was the last thing he saw through blurring images and trembling open lids that stayed that way while everything faded away.

At least before everything went black.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-

So much noise, so much pressure against her limbs; something must have snapped because her name was being shouted in her face. A Person she knew was in her vision, a young girl with warm honey hues, concern etched on her cherubic features, and a man beside her with sapphire eyes as bright as the sea. There was an age old weariness to his weathered countenance, his stubble had begun to gray at the edges, but she was confused as to why her throat was so raw and scratchy. "Lydia!" She heard. "Lydia, it's okay!" A Sweet, dulcet tone washed over her form, as the strawberry blonde's fingers dug into the brunette's arms that she finally recognised as Allison; her father stood there too, studying her closely.

Only once Lydia stopped thrashing and flailing did she realise that she had been screaming; however, it was not the same shrill cry that she was by now almost used to: there was a name falling from her lips. "Stiles." It hurt, in her heart, in her throat, and if she dared to believe it, in her soul.

"What?" Allison asked. "What about him? He's with Scott, remember?" The girl frowned. "It was just a nightmare." She brought Lydia's head to rest against her chest, her hands soothing up and down her back, then going though her tousled tresses to calm her down, all the while hushing her in that tone she used that made her feel like a frightened child waking from a bad dream.

Except this bad dream included someone she deeply cared for. "He's dead." She whispered, tears glistening in threatening sparkles on her eyes. "He can't be." Her head shook. "Allison, tell me he's okay."

Her features pinched, then Allison looked at Chris to whisper something in his ear. Her presence was the only thing keeping Lydia afloat, her voice, as well as her touch was keeping her from slipping into the dark. "Lydia, I promise you that we will find out what happened, okay?" She reassured her. "Just, stay with me, please." Pressing her face to the crook of Allison's neck, Lydia took a deep breath in, while clutching to the fabric of her baggy t-shirt like a life preserver, it felt like she was drowning, and she was the only thing, the only one keeping her from sinking under.

Moments later, after a heart breaking call from Allison to Scott, when her eyes had filled with the tears of shock that confirmed what Lydia already knew, the sound of her friend's confirmation followed her as she moved through the house toward the front door; she didn't care that she looked like an absolute wreck: her hair was a mess, her eyes were red and puffy, even her clothes were dishevelled from all the movement they had suffered in bed. But she was on a mission; she had to see for certain that Stiles was truly gone, she wanted to see Scott too, hear it from him; only then would she accept the fact as true, even if she could feel the shaking of her limbs, or the remains of the cloying aftertaste of her nightmare; the only thing that was left was the call of her curse leading her to the scene of his death.

It wasn't right, it couldn't have happened. It was _Stiles_; he was the smartest person Lydia knew, he could always figure things out, so how did he let something like this happen? What had happened for him to lose his footing? God, she was going to kill Scott. Alpha werewolf or not, she was going to hunt him down, he would become the prey, and once she got her hands on him, he would see the full weight of what Lydia Martin was capable of.

That fuelled her on, that was what kept her moving past the front door into the hall, because she knew that sooner or later, Scott would need to see Allison; where else would he go first to get his own comfort? Lydia needed retribution, to fill the void that was slowly swallowing her whole. She never fully realised the extent of her emotions until that very moment; if only she had been able to tell Stiles in words how much she really did care for him. Or perhaps even the beginnings of something more than that. Why was it one figured things out far too late? That was one of those moments when Lydia hated herself for being incapable of proper communication. She should have said something earlier, when they were pressed against the other, kissing under that rain storm.

She just didn't think that she would lose someone she cared for as soon as she had.

**To Be Continued.**


	13. Chapter 13: Never In His Life

Everything was dark; truly, nothing made sense. There were sounds, loud sounds, heavy, a soft feeling under his fingertips. Everything hurt, every single one of his limbs hurt as if it had all been broken. Breathing hurt too; was he even breathing? _What's that noise? _Soft heavy panted breathing, breaking with each intake of breath. Crying. Someone was crying. He could feel little puffs of air against his skin.

What had happened?

He could remember the pain on his neck, he could remember the high sense of awareness, he could remember Scott, the angel girl—

_Oh._

His eyes shot open; they landed on the broken image of his best friend, his brother, crying with his eyes toward the sky as if he were screaming his pains toward it. And then he inhaled; too loudly, too quickly, sitting up from the broken position as if that breath alone hurt his chest, which it did. It hurt infinitely, not due to the breath itself, but for the sudden dryness that scorched within his throat, and the smell; the smell burnt in his nostrils like fire with such intensity that he wanted to stop breathing. "Stiles!?" It was Scott breaking from his call toward the wind to reach him, and closely behind was Isaac, standing with wide shocked eyes and a frown across his forehead.

Stiles could smell him, he could smell _them_, but it wasn't them. It wasn't the sweat and cologne scent he had smelt when the pale girl had fed him her blood; no, he could smell _their _blood pumping in quick motions through their veins. "It hurts." He whispered, coughing right after due to the dry feeling upon his throat; he turned around, feeling as if the contents of his stomach were to be freed from his insides with a loud retch, but nothing came.

"Stiles!" There were tears in his best friend's voice, but shock and surprise also echoed within his simple called out word. And when Stiles stood, facing Scott and Isaac upon the called out name, he saw the shock mirrored in their eyes; not only that, but he saw the detail of their skin; their veins, he could see them pumping the warm calling liquid under their skin; he could see the particles in each droplet of sweat and tears against their flesh, he could the specks of dirt on their clothes. But above all, he could see his own reflection in the red and yellow of their eyes: it was him, but it didn't _look _like him; the eyes of the reflection were red where they should be white, bright amber hues shinning in between the red and the black of the pupil, and around the skin of the reflection's eyes there were black veins that looked like frozen tears of absolute terror atop dry and sickly skin.

And then there was more pain; this time in his mouth, and he was screaming because it hurt even more than the dryness in his throat. When his hand lifted to attempt stopping the pain, as if only with a touch it would at all dissipate, he was met with a pair of long and sharp canines that only made his eyes widen. "What..."

"Is he..." It was Isaac, his words cut short with a confusion that mirrored Stiles'. "But we heard the crack. Lydia, she—"

"Yeah, I know." Scott replied. "I heard it too." Was he angry? Was he sad? The echo of his words confused Isaac and Stiles alike, his frame stood there with a frown across his forehead and wondrous orbs studying the latter.

"So, what?" Isaac finally worded. "Does that mean he's...?" It was as if the words alone were too heavy a burden to bear even solely by speaking them.

But their meaning were clear, even unspoken. "Yeah." Scott repeated, frown deep in the middle of his forehead. "He's dead."

Stiles didn't even notice when his eyes had lowered; probably when the reality of his reflection and the feeling on his teeth had downed inside his mind, but he looked up at such a statement. "What?" He asked, eyes half blinking as his hands lowered. "No, I'm not—"

"No." Scott interrupted him, shaking his head with that frown unmoving. The correction of his words flowing with a soft air as his eyes finally met the vein-y orbs of the distraught Stiles. "He's _undead_."

None of it made sense to the boy, and the lack of air suddenly entering his lungs made the beginning of a panic attack begin to feel forming within his form. He could hear cars crushing wet asphalt under them with not one behicle visible around them, he could feel the microscopic particles of the drop of water that suddenly fell against his arm from a nearby tree's rain residue, he could hear his friends' heart beating like a metronome inside their chest, their breaths, the leaves moving as a spider walked on them.

He could smell blood; it was the most prominent smell, it called to him like a beaconing, it made the dryness in the middle of his throat feel like a scorching fire he could only put out by using the new-found long canines to bite into one of his friend's throats and slurping their lifeline like and ICEE. "Stiles?"

It was the look in his eyes that had made Scott and Isaac wary. The look of hunger, the look of insanity brought forth by the _need _that forced his face into the mask of his new nature. Like if they dared to say anything else then their friend would lose it completely. "Stiles." Isaac said, using a slightly harsher and more worried tone than the cautious one Scott had priorly used.

And then everything changed right before their eyes.

One moment Stiles was feet away from both wolves, raged breaths leaving in silent tones as his eyes remained focused on them both, and then, not even a millisecond later, he was standing inches away from Scott, his hands reaching for his friend in order to pull him closer, canines exposed fully in a stretch of his mouth as he leaned toward the alpha's throat. If it hadn't been for Isaac's growling and hurrying hands to pull the boy away from his alpha, Stiles would have bitten into flesh. After a loud crack echoed at the contact of Stiles' back against the nearest tree, he faced Isaac with a hiss escaping through his lips.

It was as if the sound alone shocked Stiles back into reality and away from the frenzy blood had sent him into. "Oh my god." He whispered, stepping back against the tree and lifting both his hands to cover his mouth. The image of his eyes returned to normal, something he felt as much as the canines retreating back into his gums. "I'm sorry." He said behind his palms. "I'm so sorry."

And then he was running; leaving the sound of his name echoing from Scott and Isaac's lips that he could still hear even after he'd exited the tree line. He ran in no particular direction, seeing trees pass by him in a blur along the lights of the shortly approaching town of Beacon Hills; he didn't need to breathe, he didn't need to stop. It was as if everything moved too quickly and too slowly all at the same time, never crashing against anything the crossed his way due to his eyes being able to see it and his quicker reflexes to evade it within milliseconds. A million and one thoughts crashed inside his mind as he ran and the realisation of his goal echoed louder than any scream; it was the one thing he needed, the one thing he hungered for and couldn't stop thinking about no matter how much he attempted it:

Blood.

-O-O-O-O-O-O-

_He can't be gone. _She thought. _He can't be dead. _Lydia Martin had stopped walking; as if the beaconing of death had stopped her just steps away from the elevator that would take her to the first floor of Allison's apartment building even though the doors of the lift were open. She couldn't move, there were tears running down her face that she couldn't even attempt to stop, she felt empty, broken, too tired to think of doing anything but stand there frozen while everything around her fell apart. The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes felt like hours, and to Lydia it felt as if nothing would make her feel okay again; not for a very long time. It was only the sound of a shuttering crash against a nearby window that made her fixated eyes pry away from the now closed elevator doors.

And then her heart nearly stopped.

Was she seeing things? In her grief, did she manifest a hallucination as a coping mechanism? No; it couldn't be. If she had, then she was pretty sure that it wouldn't be like that, he wouldn't look chalky white with nearly dark dry and vein-y eyes, he would smile at her, he would look healthy and strong and— "Stiles?" She whispered in a broken call. There was something horribly different about him, something apart from the unrecognisable features along his eyes, it made one part of Lydia feel the urge to get closer to him, as if he were a magnet and she was its mate, yet... the other part of her was completely repelled by him. Because... he was dead, wasn't he?

In her confusion, Lydia found herself glued to the very spot she had been in for a while; she could hear Allison calling her, but she couldn't react to it, all she knew was that her best friend was taking careful steps toward her and the image of Stiles that couldn't possibly be real. And she was going to call for him again, take advantage of the fact that whatever curse beheld her existence allowed her a last glimpse at the boy, however broken. But instead, as her lips parted to speak, the image of the dead boy moved toward her in motions faster than she thought possible; somehow, the hallway disappeared a second later and she found her breath escaping through her lips the moment her back met one of the walls of the hallway in Allison's home.

It _was _Stiles, though; and though Lydia remained confused, wondering if her mind had lost itself in the grief that had drowned her, Allison and Chris Argent were completely aware and wide awake. Their eyes watched shocked upon the scene before them; Stiles' forearm against Lydia's chest, dry eyes looking broken and tainted with the decay of what they could only think of as death. It was not many things that made the Argents question their sanity, but this? This was doing the trick quite well.

Stiles, in the other hand, was lost on the frenzy he had followed; thoughts of his friends and family had mixed inside his mind. It was as if he had been following a scent along with a thought, like all he could see behind his eyelids was red and the faces of the people he knew; all he could hear, all he could smell was blood, a delicious calling he simply couldn't ignore, and then somehow there it was; somehow he had found it after climbing along the side of a building and breaking through a window that had landed him on that hallway. He was lost, he didn't know what he was doing, who he had pushed against so forcefully, who he even pressed against at that moment, all that mattered was the manner in which he allowed himself to follow that blinded instinct that had only one purpose; a purpose that he quickly satiated by pressing the once again elongated canines against the flesh of that which he could only think of as his prey until they had punctured it. His gums hurt, much more so with the new pressure against his teeth, but he didn't care, because only a second later an impossibly delicious taste was leading into his system. Warm, welcoming against the dryness of his throat, a taste so glorious he could feel his whole body growing strong with every drop that fell inside his mouth; something unlike anything he'd ever tasted.

He was pressed against her, digits gripping onto her clothes, her frame, to pull her closer, as if he simply couldn't get enough, and Lydia was afraid. She could suddenly see Allison holding her bow with shaking digits, making the banshee start wondering upon the reality of the situation. Allison didn't want to shoot, as much was clear due to the manner in which her gaze flicked from her to Stiles, as if she were wondering what to do. This was their best friend who wasn't acting like himself; he was acting like a bloodthirsty animal, and Lydia's hands attempted to dig into whichever part of him that she could. She tried to let out a breath, but it wouldn't come, not with the painful manner in which Stiles pressed himself against her; had he always been that strong?

It was so strange, because Lydia knew that she was scared, she knew she should want to scream, but there was something that made the stinging on her throat soothe her frame completely; it was as if he had ripped her apart at the seams and made her want to give in while wanting to push him away at the same time. Every inch of her, every cell, was confused; because while whatever feeling soothed her soul into giving in to _him, _there were those whispers within her mind suddenly calling for her in beaconing echoes: _give in to us. _"Stiles!" She heard from somewhere near them; Chris, attempting one last call upon the boy so he didn't have to kill him.

"STILES!" It was a new voice, a feminine one, that brought the boy back with a slap into reality; and a smell, a familiar sweet smell above the one that had called upon him like the howl of an alpha to his beta; a smell he could recognise. "Stiles!"

"Shoot, Allison!" Chris encouraged, his eyes on his daughter, whose hand trembled at the image that lay before her. "DO IT!"

And then it all made sense to Stiles; the smell, so delicious and close against him, it belonged to Lydia Martin. _Oh God. What have I done? _He thought after swallowing, pushing back and away from her as if her skin had bolted him away. _What am I doing? _The soft whistling of air breaking apart by the swift fly of an arrow made the boy move, quickly and strongly, refusing to move away from fear of dooming his beloved to death by the arrow that flew in his direction; it was as if instinct had taken over him, because one second he was standing there, staring at Lydia with pure horror in his twisted features, and the next he'd turned around and the flying arrow was trapped in between his hand. Allison looked horrified, her father's shock evident in the creases upon his features, watching Stiles suddenly moving again.

The smell remained too strong, the clanking of the arrow's silver connecting with the ground echoed like thunder against his eardrums, and before he knew it, his frame had hit against the nearest wall opposite Lydia, and he could feel a warm droplet of her blood slowly trailing down the side of his mouth toward his chin. Allison instantly moved to help her friend, who was slowly sliding down the wall with weakness upon her frame. "Lydia." She said, her arms reaching for her, and frowning the moment she leaned weakly against her frame. "Oh my god, Lydia."

"Is she okay?" Stiles suddenly asked rather stupidly, his eyes dancing from Allison to her father, whose arm suddenly rested extended in his direction with a gun held between his secured digits. _What have I done? _The question remained like a horrified chant of a broken record inside his mind, haunting him along with the image of a nearly ghostly Lydia leaning against her best friend. She was conscious; her hand had reached up in attempts to stop the droplets of blood that fell from the punctures in her neck, but the smell of it reached him, and he felt the scorch within his throat once again, the dryness upon his eyes, the pull, the hunger, the—"No." He moved; he forced himself to shift upon his place, to take a step forward, but that step took him many feet away from the Argents and Lydia against the furthest wall of the hallway in the apartment, which only landed him inside Allison's bedroom.

"We're not going to kill him." She told her dad, eyes set even as she held Lydia close against her.

Chris was lowering his hand the moment his eyes fell nearly shocked upon his daughter's orbs. "Allison, he's already dead. The way it looks to me—"

"Dad." She interrupted him, head shaking, her eyes flicking in Lydia's direction beside her before returning to the familiar wary look upon her father's visage. "We can't." She told him. "You saw the way his eyes started changing again, he was horrified. He ran away when he could have easily attacked us." She paused, eyes falling on her open bedroom door. "Whatever he is, it's still Stiles."

"It's him." Lydia suddenly said, making both Argents' gazes fall upon her. Everything within her hurt, she felt weak, but every single ounce of her being brought upon the words that escaped her lips. It scared her, as she weakly looked at both concerned Argents, her hand pressed against her neck, feeling the blood drying already against her skin. "He's different, but it's Stiles."

Chris' eyes danced between his daughter and her friend; one and a million thoughts about the old code echoing inside his mind like a haunting taunt, only partly quieted by the whisper of the 'new' code being reminded to him by means of the look in Allison's eyes. "It's still Stiles." She repeated, and it made a breath escape bewildered from his worried lips; an emotion that only made the man walk forward in the direction of the room at the end of the hall, his daughter's, where the boy had disappeared.

It didn't take long for Allison to follow along, holding Lydia carefully alongside her so they could walk toward her room. "Stiles?" Chris called once he reached the door; and the image inside worried everyone. It was the boy; huddled against a dark corner in Allison's bedroom, somewhere between her desk and a drawer. It looked like something out of a scary movie; a pale still image that could at any moment jump if disturbed. "Stiles, we—"

"Stay back." He suddenly said, his head flicking up with those amber eyes twisted into darkness and an outstretched hand in a stopping motion towards the three under the doorway. "Please, just stay back." He requested, eyes pleading in their direction. "I don't want to hurt you." Though he didn't miss the look that Chris and Allison suddenly shared, Stiles' every thought focused upon Lydia's image. Her skin, her eyes, the crease upon her forehead.

And suddenly he was panicking; he knew he was, he had the recognisable feeling of a burn upon his chest, as if his lungs were begging for air, only they weren't; the breath he inhaled slipped effortlessly in and out regardless of if he felt upon his chest the same weight as when he was having a panic attack, yet... when his hand lifted in attempts to relax his own heart, when it rested against his chest he was met by nothing. No beat, no pump, no nudge against his palm to assure him of a working organ. There was nothing at all.

At least everyone had heard him and stayed back; though he could see concern across the Argent's features, it was nothing compared to the anger that he saw reflected upon Lydia's weakened frame. He felt relieved; and he was aware of how stupid it was, to be relieved that his (hopefully) girlfriend was angry with him, but it meant she was okay. It meant that, though he would forever hate himself for hurting the girl in such a manner, thus breaking the promise of never hurting her in his life, she was going to be okay.

Though... _had _he broken the promise? It was such a thought that brought upon the wondering of his newfound state; he began remembering, like a blur of memories inside his mind, everything that had happened prior to that very moment: the angel-like girl, her dulcet tones against his ear whispering upon his probable discomfort after feeding him her _blood. _

His death.

He'd died; his heart was no longer beating against his hand, yet he remained awake, pressing against the walls of Allison's bedroom with confusion beating at his insides. He'd ran all the way from a forest miles away and drank Lydia's blood, he'd... he'd _drank _Lydia's blood.

Suddenly he was laughing.

It was a feat that made Chris, Allison and Lydia all look at one another, the same question hanging above their heads and a frown adorning their foreheads. _Has he lost it? _He was laughing; he was clearly still panicking, but he was laughing. He was scared, hell, he was _horrified, _but he was _still_ laughing. Panic had decided to show itself in the form of laughter brought upon by his own wonderings. Because he could remember a conversation not too long ago with the very girl who seemed as angry as she looked confused, about vampires nonetheless. And now... what? Now he was _one_?! Him? Always human Stiles Stilinski. He was _dead, _and he was a _vampire_?!

Out of all the creatures that could have stolen his life away, a vampire.

The irony didn't brush at all past him, and the panic, the guilt and the fear were all mixing within him into the echoing waves of laughter that had the three under the doorway wondering once again if they should be running away or laughing along with the boy. The vampire. "Stiles?" Allison called, this time wary, curious, confused and careful all at the same time, holding Lydia carefully against her and forcing herself to not look in the direction of her father.

But instead of giving her a reply, instead of an answer to the curiosity that befell Allison Argent upon his panic induced laugher, Stiles looked in Lydia's direction, her angry features giving enough of a reason to allow the laughter to dissipate so he could be able to voice one of his thoughts out loud; Just one, mostly for the strawberry blonde to understand: "Guess we shouldn't have made fun of Dracula, huh?"

**To Be Continued.**


End file.
